Ghetto Fire

I wish I had a photo to show you, but it’s probably for the best. I wouldn’t want you to feel sorry for me that I’m living in The Ghetto of Kelowna.

I kept calling this area that, as a joke, except it happens to be true, making the joke far less funny. I just found out there’s a brothel a block from here, above the little grocery store. I already mentioned the drug dealer in my building; did I also say how before I moved in there used to be two? The more obvious one got kicked out, but the remaining guy had managed to keep it on the down-low enough to stay, I guess. I probably wouldn’t have noticed, had I not been told about him, though I may have otherwise wondered about the rather dazed looking people I often see coming in and out of the building.

If that’s not ghetto enough for you (there’s also the shouting matches on the balconies, and people here repeatedly telling me how poor they are and how expensive everything is), there was Thursday morning just to make the experience complete.

It wasn’t yet 7, and I was woken up by a loud low ringing I didn’t recognize. It unfortunately didn’t go away, and after remembering who I was and what end was up, I realized it must be the building fire alarm. I was hoping it would stop, but it didn’t, so I drowsily found some pants, put on my jacket and shoes and took the stairs outside to where my neighbours were all standing. Yes, I’m aware had this been a proper big building fire I’d have probably died, but I didn’t smell smoke until I got to the bottom doors.

After a couple minutes the fire truck came (the fire station is, like, 4 blocks away, so I’m surprised they even drove) and two firemen (sexy by default, though I was too tired to notice) entered the building through the front. After another minute an apartment window opened and out flew a mattress with a big hole burned into the middle of it. Someone had fallen asleep with a cigarette, or something; I never found out for sure.

The mattress, however, belonged to the drug dealer. Whoops. We were all let back in the building soon after (which was good, as it was probably -10C or colder outside) and when I left for work I saw that the apartment of the fire had police tape on its door, and there was a police car parked outside. DRAMA! You can only be so discrete as a pusher if you’ve set fire to your business.

It is too bad I didn’t take a photo of all this, because the burnt mattress was outside on the front lawn of the building for two days. Which makes me so proud to live here, let me tell you. Reminds me of Surrey.

In the end I was pretty pissed off to have been woken early and made late to work, but what upset me most of all was that it seems I am a bad cat owner. All these neighbours showed up with their cats in their arms or in a cage, while I left Shebang in my apartment to BURN TO DEATH OBVIOUSLY and am therefore a horrible person. I just hope she never finds out.