I Didn’t Start The Fire


Disclaimer, note, etc. I am allowed to joke about the fire because I was directly affected by it. Kind of like how Dane Cook “can make black jokes” (he’s “not racist,” he has “a black president”).

So, if you had no idea, the world is ending pretty soon. Those crazy Mayans predicted that our world was gonna end in 2012 (bet you $50 and a zebra that it doesn’t). Anyway, in preparation for the apocalypse, Mother Nature thought it would be a great idea to start lighting several states on fire, especially Wyoming and Colorado. (Sounds terrible, but the difference is people actually care about Colorado. Wyoming only exists so people can spend $800 on fireworks and go to the Earth’s hot version of a whale spout.)

These are the classy individuals that populate Wyoming. Oh, and fireworks. Lots and lots of fireworks.

In June, a massive fire started near Fort Collins. The fire, known as the High Park Fire, scorched more than 87,000 acres, leaving one person dead and destroying 259 homes. Not to be outdone, a few weeks later, a devastating fire in Colorado Springs (the Waldo Canyon Fire) started, along with one just west of the beloved Flatirons near Boulder. I am very fortunate (as fortunate as you can be with a wildfire burning a mere mile from your house) to have had the Flagstaff Fire, as it came to be called, instead of the High Park or Waldo Canyon Fires. Due to the fact that Colorado was now literally on fire, people were getting concerned. The most beautiful state in the U.S. was now Mordor.

I suggest you turn on the A/C. Weather forecast for today: fire with a chance of burning.

On June 26th, I went golfing. I could see a thin, thick pillar of smoke rising up from behind the Flatirons and got worried (although, I apparently wasn’t too worried because I went golfing). As we drove further, the smoke got bigger and bigger. Inside the clubhouse, the employees were watching the news. A lightning strike had started a wildfire just behind the Flatirons, east of Walker Ranch. Deciding it was more important to see how bad I was at golf than to panic about the fire, we golfed on. (Totally relevant detail: I got a par on the first hole. Watch out, Tiger! After that, I was back to my regular self. 5 over par on every hole, which I would like to attribute to the fact that my beloved Flatirons now looked like an erupting volcano and all I could think about was my house burning down.)

Run for the hills! …nevermind…Plan B!

My house was put under pre-evacuation notice, which, to me, meant I should get home as fast as possible and throw everything all over my house. It didn’t matter how messy the house looked because it was gonna burn down. I packed up all the stuff that was important to me (apparently only 3 bags of clothes and my camera), and shoved it in the car. My mom got the important stuff (like my green card and all that), and Cannon (brother) decided that every possession of his was necessary, so the car was packed with random tid-bits (God forbid he put his stuff in a bag). We then spent the next 4 hours watching the news (and reading Twitter, a much quicker news source. Who knew hashtags weren’t just for cool people and #YOLO?). I began to cope with the fact that the gorgeous land behind the Flatirons was burning. In fact, the fire actually made Colorado even more beautiful. The sunsets were spectacular while the smoke was in the air.

The sky looks like it’s on fire! (That’s not funny)

After awhile, I realized it wasn’t as dramatic as my brain made it out to be. No structures were ever threatened. But, the fire wasn’t really coming close. In fact, the fire stayed a mile away from Boulder over the few days of 0-99.999% containment. There were only a few visible flare-ups that came over the ridge (which I’m talking about like it wasn’t a big deal. But don’t be fooled by my stone cold, emotionless face and muscular physique, those tiny-lookin’ campfires scared the everything out of me).

With a campfire that big, you’re just asking for burnt hot dogs.

The brave firefighters had the fire 100% contained within a week of the fire starting. Just about the only harm the fire caused me was that I finally had to do my laundry that I hadn’t done in 2 months because, in my haste, I mixed dirty clothes with old ones (silly me!).  I’m not exactly positive who started the fire (authorities say it was lightning, but I’m willing to bet one of those cowboys that lived back there just got back from Wyoming and had a little too much fun with fireworks), but all I can say is — I didn’t start the fire (it was always burning, since the world’s been turning). ♫

——————

More pictures to make your eyes happy (hopefully):

Smoking is a nasty habit. Secondhand smoke kills.

Follow the leader.

I still never figured out what the purpose of that tiny plane was…

The plane isn’t bleeding. It’s fighting fire!

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One thought on “I Didn’t Start The Fire

  1. Pingback: Zombies Are Coming (For Sure) « Kai Thomas Casey

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