Big Bang!
My floor to ceiling office window turned into jewelry, sparkling all around me. The mighty gods grabbed hold of me by the chest, but let me go right away. I nearly cried when I heard things falling – better than hearing nothing at all.
I was working then in Chelsea, a semi-industrial area in Manhattan, in a data processing firm in converted lofts. Not exactly a terrorist target, it turned out to be a good old fashioned industrial accident. Workers in a sign making business were consolidating waste barrels, and they consolidated into the acetone one more barrel that they had lying around. That contained nitric acid. Making a bomb.
The explosion was on the north side of the building, and the fire evacuation plan was to use the south side, so even though we were bound to get jammed up, it would be on the safe side.
Lou, the NYPD sergeant who moonlit for us as security ran past me towards the north side fire exit, to get to the scene. I fell in behind him. He stops people from floors above ours from continuing down onto the scene (dangerous) and directs them back in to go to the safe south side.
I tell him “I’ve got this, you’ve got the duty…”, so that he can continue down to the scene while I direct traffic. Not such a big deal, it is one of those open to the outside concrete fire escapes, with a four foot parapet. I crouch down in the cover of the parapet and direct people to safety.
Once the flow had ceased, I went down to catch up with Lou. I saw him at the entrance to the basement across the street. I had in front of me on our loading dock about six or eight guys lying down coughing and wheezing. I go into Red Cross mode and check for injuries – they all have some level of inhalation injury, plus some scratches. (Of course at that point I did not know about the nitric acid.)
So I reassured and monitored, especually one guy who if he had got any worse I would have done rescue breathing for. In the training they are very clear that you do not move people (without the equipment) unless they are in more danger by staying than moving them. The example always used is if they are on a highway. And then I realized that yes, there was a significant risk of additional masonry falling, gas main rupture or other secondary explosion, I should move them.
I remembered one of my instructors telling us that you can separate out the worst cases by telling people to move “over there”. The people who don’t move are the priorities.
So I told everyone to move “over there”, pointing to the ambulances at the end of the block. No matter how far they got, they would be better off than with me. And in fact everyone did get there by themselves, except the one guy who was worst off.
I don’t know how to do a fireman’s lift, and he was too floppy when I tried to do a shoulder assist, but an NYPD detective saw what I was trying to do, and came in for a basket carry when I motioned it. We took him all the way to the ambulances, then he ran back. Not a word spoken, just follow the training.
After a while there I decided that there were enough uniforms and everything around, they could take care of themselves and I would go and sync up with my co-workers and go home.
When I caught up with them outside the south side of the building it did seem a little weird the way that they were making such a big fuss over each other, who was the big hero of shouting directions in the stairwell. Oh well, sounds like people who are unused to dramatic events coming to terms with it in their own way.
Meanwhile, at home one of my wife’s friends had called her about the explosion in Chelsea, am I alright? She says yes, she can see I am helping out with first aid. How can she tell? By my distinctive bald spot, she can recognize me from the CNN helicopter.
