"I get to work tomorrow."

I can't say that with a straight face. I always grin when it comes out. Unlike jobs I have had in the past, I genuinely look forward to going to work. I never know what the day will bring, what might happen. I have zero seniority, so I work all over The City, with all the different crews. I'm the one who loads up his truck with all his stuff, and moves on out to fill the hole.

Every station has its own culture and cast of characters. Each serves a specific response area ("still area"), with its own unique vibe. The Ciy boasts stately homes in manicured neighborhoods, and admits to citizens living on the edge of ruin, in ratbag apartments. Suburbs, waterfront, industry, railroads, lakes, rivers, forests. Every assignment has its upside and downside.

Nursing homes call us in the middle of the night to heft patients back into their bed, we get sick (and not so sick) people to the hospital. If you have a fender bender, we'll probably roll up on the scene, with flashing lights and reflective vests, ready to extinguish your car and check you out. The homeless find the last remaining pay phones and invent symptoms when the weather is crappy. And sometimes stuff catches on fire.

Most of what we do is not firefighting. The Fire Department is The City's insurance policy against Bad Stuff. That policy has been expanded to include (a lot of) pre-hospital emergency medical care. Even if you can't pay for a doctor, you can afford the 911 call, and we will come. We'll make sure you get to the emergency room, and let the insurance and hospital sharks sort it out later.

Occasionally, we arrive too late. A person might lay on the bed or floor, cooling, blood pooling in the body's lowest points. CPR won't save this patient. But if there's a ghost of a chance, paramedics will scoop up the patient and scoot to the ED. They'll deliver what medications they can to preserve and improve this patient's grip on life.

But, like I said, sometimes shit burns. If there's been a fire while you were off duty, you know it as soon as you stride into the apparatus bay in the morning. The smell of smoke clings to equipment like frosting on a cake. It's unmistakable, and it jogs a hundred memories of fires, both real and staged for training. Wet hoses dripping in the tower have a different aroma, and I'm comforted to know that The City's investment paid off for someone.

Some guys crave a good fire. A fire means that someone is having a very bad day. I don't wish that on anyone. They're dangerous, messy, and expensive. But if a different shift gets a fire, I feel some envy. I don't want anyone's property to burn, but if it's gonna happen, let it happen on my watch.

Accidents, fires, earthquake, sickness, and death are all possibilities. What will be, will be. Hopefully, we are prepared with training, tools, and intelligence to make things better.

I get to work tomorrow.