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yesterday i bumped into a friend and her three-year old son leaving his pre-school. after introductions i had the following conversation with her boy.
TROY
so ravi, how'd school go?
RAVI
good. a fire truck came.
TROY
oh, wow. a fire truck. that's pretty cool.
RAVI
i didn't cry.
TROY
well, that's ... great. firemen do good stuff, there's no reason to cry.
PRIYA
he says he didn't cry because half his class did after the firemen put on their uniforms.
did you know this? that kids are freaked out by firemen. i had no idea. fortunately our fire professionals are a little more in tune and make it a point to tour their communities acquainting kids with the process. can you imagine busting your ass through a burning house only to have the little human you're trying to save shriek, turn and scamper under a flame-engorged bed. if it were me i'd be as alarmed as them by their reaction and think there was someone else in the room they saw and i didn't. odds are i'd dive under the bed right behind them to get away from the scary thing. it wouldn't be until they screamed, again, scurried away, again, and locked themselves in a burning closet that i would figure out i was the scary object in the room. and this is only one of the reasons i'm paid to type on a keyboard all day long instead of rescuing humans in peril.
additionally, if you remove the fire-element from the above, the scenario has way more similarities a marty-troy date night (before children) than i'm willing to share in such a public venue.
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