Today there was a gas leak in the building where my radio station is. Naturally we all had to be evacuated, thank God it was a nice day, that’s all I really have to say about that. I mean there’s no convenient time to almost blow up, but if you have to explode, it’s probably better to go out with a nice sunny day as your last memory rather than getting snowed on, freezing your ass off [at least until the inferno gets you,] or getting rained on. But whatever, that’s not really the point.
The gas leak in itself wasn’t really all that eventful. It happened, we all got the hell out of the building, and then we were eventually let back in once somebody decided that it was safe. And there’s where the fun began.
I headed back inside about 5 or 10 minutes after they gave the all clear. The first thing I noticed was that the person in charge of clearing the building must either be stupid, have no sense of smell, or both because there was still a pretty strong odour even before I got back in. But at the same time as I noticed that and questioned the wisdom of heading back inside, I noticed another smell. Cigarettes. Yes, I said cigarettes. There was honestly somebody standing right in front of the building, the one that we had all ran out of in a frenzy not an hour earlier due to a leaking flammable substance that could blow us all sky highat a moment’s notice, having a smoke. I hope I don’t have to explain why that’s not a good idea.
All the way home I could only think one thought. It must be people like this that they write the warning labels for. But the more I think about it, that can’t possibly be, because in order for that to be the case you would have to rely on these people to have sense and smarts enough to take the time to read something and even if they did, they’re still faced with the daunting task of figuring out what it all means.
I have no good ending for this so I’m just going to go make lunch now.