How Firefighters Responded to My Musical Emergency
Estimated reading time: 7 minutes (Or watch the video)
For the first time in five months, I finally got to visit my best friend.
Although we both live in the DMV (which is the colloquialism for the D.C.–Maryland–Virginia area), we each have very different schedules. Plus, she’s in Virginia and I’m in Maryland—and traffic is brutal. It normally takes about 90 minutes to get to her place, but for some reason, it only took an hour that day.
My friend hadn’t anticipated that, and was therefore out running errands, so I decided to stop at her local Starbucks to kill some time.
As I passed the nearby fire station, I couldn’t help but ponder one of my goals for the Happiness Soundtrack: Someday, I wanted to ask a firefighter for their song. But I wondered how I’d ever be able to accomplish that. Anytime I see a firetruck, it’s either blazing past me with sirens, or parked at a public place while they perform EMT services. (Or, you know, fighting fires.)
Would I ever get an opportunity? Could I pull up to the station and just ask at the front desk? … Do they even have a front desk?
The only time I’d ever seen firefighters in an approachable setting was at a grocery store in San Francisco—just pushing their carts in full uniform, as though it was completely ordinary. (But then, I’ve done the same thing in my flight attendant uniform a time or two while on the way home from work. Everybody’s gotta buy groceries, and I guess firefighters are no exception.)
I figured it was inappropriate to text my ex and tell him to ask his firefighter brother for me. Better to start asking around to see if my friends knew of anyone. Or I could just wait until I saw one in an airport someday. I’ve occasionally seen them traveling to help control wildfires.
Finally, I reached the shopping center with the Starbucks, which is conveniently shared with a grocery store. As I turned down the row to park, something unusual caught my eye:
A firetruck.
Not whizzing past, not twirling its lights along the curb, not fighting any fires… Just parked there in the back—and blocking several spaces to keep the lane clear.
As I drove past in disbelief, I saw three firemen in full uniform walking straight towards it.
I felt the music gods smiling upon me! It was the perfect chance to ask!
Except… It was also very weird!
Normally, I only ask people after establishing some rapport. It’s almost always an odd direction to take the conversation, but at least there’s a conversation to steer. This would be a “cold call.” No small talk or banter whatsoever; just jumpin’ straight in to ask a random question that’s also intimate and personal.
I absolutely hate cold calls, because I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable—but I try not to let that stop me. If you’ve read my story “All You Have to Do Is Ask,” then you know why I’ve come to hate the feeling of never trying, even more than making a fool of myself.
I quickly considered what would be less awkward: Stopping the car and rolling down my window to catch them walking by, or parking the car and approaching the truck to ask them before they left.
They were strolling, and I was rolling. The opportunity was literally passing me by.
“Okay, Banana, are you gonna roll down the window, or are you gonna park and get out? Come on—pick one, pick one, pick one! NOW!”
By that time, I had passed the point of being able to brake casually, so I could either go with the second option, or just keep going about my day and let them live their firemen lives. I decided to park and get out—and was brutally aware of just how strange it would make me look.
Still, I snagged the closest parking spot, shut off the car, and took a deep breath. Then I grabbed my purse, clamored out of the driver’s seat, and hurried over to the truck.
No running, though. That would’ve been weird.
By that time, the guys were climbing into the cab—literally. (The truck was so high off the ground that each door had three metal steps below it.)
Besides the driver, I saw someone behind him, and a man in the passenger seat. None of them noticed me; they were all chatting as they got situated—but I could only tell because I saw their mouths moving. The loud hum of the motor drowned out all other noise—which meant they also couldn’t hear my loud and cheerful, “Hi!”
So I just stood there, waiting.
After a few moments, I backed up to get into their line of sight.
Then I smiled and waved, and shouted another hello. The windows were all down, but my voice was again lost in the rumbling of the diesel engine. Plus, they had all donned their headsets (so they could hear each other over the continuous roar).
Finally, the driver noticed me and smiled.
However… it was the type of smile that acknowledges someone’s presence, but also says you don’t want to engage.
I smiled again and repeated my awkward greeting for a third time. (At least they hadn’t heard the first two attempts, so it was 66.6% less awkward for them than it was for me.) Then, I launched into my request—which was frequently interrupted by my own nervous laughter.
“Um… Hi! So… I’m doing a music project where I ask everyone the same question. I try to ask as many different types of people as possible. I’ve wanted to ask a firefighter, but didn’t know when I’d get the chance! I just want to know what’s a song that reminds you of a happy memory.”
The driver took a moment to process what I’d said. Then, with his voice, he replied, “Okay.” But with his tone and body language, he had said, “What the hell is happening right now?”
Finally, he continued.
“Well, that’s an interesting question…” He sat back as he pondered, then turned to the other guys in the truck.
“She just wants to know what’s a song that reminds you of a happy memory,” he hollered over the rumbling.
At that point, I saw someone behind the passenger seat as well—so four men in total. Four men to witness my absurdity. Fabulous. I just stood there, soaking up the awkwardness.
What they didn’t know was that I’d grown up extremely shy, and riddled with social anxiety—so I had a lifetime of experience being incredibly awkward. I couldn’t even count how many times I’d said something ridiculous that made total sense to me but that no one else had understood. If anyone was accustomed to this discomfort, it was me.
Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? They’d tell me they needed to go do important firemen things? I wouldn’t have blamed them. I’d just continue on with my coffee objective and call it a day—then try again some other way, using the methods I’d already contemplated.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence (except for the rumbling), the guy behind the driver leaned out his window and shouted:
‘Who Says You Can’t Go Home,’ by Bon Jovi.
A smile glowed across my face as I yelled, “Awesome!” I unzipped my bag and dug out the journal. “Would you mind to jot it down here, please?”
I grabbed onto his window frame, pulled myself up onto the highest metal step, and handed him the book.
“Bold, dammit,” I thought to myself. Although, I couldn’t help but feel I was being incredibly imposing.
The kind young firefighter didn’t write any story or explanation about his song; just the title and artist, and his own name. I thanked John for sharing, then shouted through a smile.
“Well, the most random part of your day is over now! I appreciate you guys. And thank you for everything you do!”
At this, I jumped down from the steps, shoved the journal back into my purse—and strutted towards the Starbucks.
I didn’t even have my coffee yet and I already had the jitters. It took several minutes to process what had just happened. But the more I thought about it, the more proud I was. The Janna from 10, 20, or 30 years ago would never have done that! The Janna from 1 year ago might not even have done that. Clearly, I was a new me, and that was exciting.
Not only had I accomplished my goal, but I’d embraced an opportunity life had served to me on a silver platter. I thought if I had shown life that I’d take advantage of those opportunities, maybe it would send me some more.
It’s quite possible that I’ve become some odd legend around the fire station, and to those guys, I’ll probably always be known as “That weird music girl.” But you know what? I’m fine with that. In fact, I think that title’s got a pretty nice ring to it.
How about you?
Has life ever presented you with the perfect opportunity at the perfect time? If not, what’s something you’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do?
When have you pushed through your own discomfort? Have you ever jumped into something before you felt ready? Share your experiences below!