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The long-awaited Dublin Fire Brigade update!

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A voice rang out from down the hallway, with it’s owner appearing around a corner seconds later.

“Hey! We’ve got a call near the Liffey!

Glenn turned his head from us and cursed quietly.

“Are we goin’ swimming?” he asked, tentatively.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Glenn’s head lolled back towards us with a sheepish grin.

“Oh, thank God for that. I’m on the back step tonight, and that river’s dirty as hell.”

Glenn Delves is 29 years old and has been with the Dublin Fire Brigade for seven years. Currently assigned to the Tara Street station (which also serves as Brigade headquarters during the the day), his role as a firefighter, paramedic, and swiftwater rescue technician is nothing unique to the 40-some other firefighters in the house with him.

“Oh yeah, we’re all paramedics… and it just makes sense for most of us to be SRTs, since the river is right nearby and we go in there pretty frequently for all sorts of stuff.”

Waitaminute, back up. Forty firefighters?

“It’s the biggest house in Dublin. Even after HQ shuts down for the day, we still have a lot of people here.”

Almost as if he anticipated the question (probably by the incredulous look on my face), he added:

“Oh, and kitchen duty is horrible.”

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The tour of the firehouse was brief but fascinating. The station opened at the intersection of Tara and Pearse Streets was opened as DFB headquarters in April of 1908—the old brick watchtower still stands, and is a historically protected structure by the city of Dublin. Today, it exists as an open-air station with canopy covers for the apparatus and multiple floors for bunkrooms, the mess hall, administrative offices, and “Control Room” (the call-taking center for the entire city as well as many surrounding counties, staffed 24 hours a day by full-time Brigade personnel).

Unfortunately, our trip was cut short by Glenn and the rest of his crew headed out on calls—with approximately 133,000 calls annually, the Dublin Fire Brigade must balance the average 364 daily calls amongst twelve full-time (and three on-call or “retained”) stations. However, with locations like Tara Street staffing two engines, two ladder trucks, one tower ladder, two ambulances, a Haz-Mat Unit, and a District Officer, the workload seems pretty well spread-out.

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It was a wonderful trip, and I can’t express my gratitude to the DFB enough. If there’s any Dublin Fire personnel reading this, I sincerely appreciate your hospitality and wish you all the best in your careers—take care and stay safe, brothers.

Oh, and if you ever need a place to crash in D.C., drop me a line and I’d be more than happy to help out.

/RL

ireland_RL-13_smGlenn Delves, a seven-year veteran of the Dublin Fire Brigade, opens compartments on the fire engine and describes the equipment contained within.


ireland_RL-14_smAs Swiftwater Rescue Technicians (SRTs), the crews of the Tara Street station keep their river rescue gear ready on the apparatus at all times.


ireland_RL-15_smThe Dublin Fire Brigade utilizes Dräger breathing apparatus; three SCBA packs line the rear wall of the bench seat for the firefighters “on the back step” for that shift.


ireland_RL-12_smI think it’s universal: DFB personnel dislike their ambulance rotations just as much as their American counterparts do, it seems.

(I can just hear Dave Dennis now: “That suck-ass rookie paramedic would go to an Irish firehouse and take pitchurrs of a ambalance!” Yep—go ahead, Dave, have your fun.)

ireland_RL-9_smThis button from the DCFD Emerald Society is older than I am. There’s quite an impressive wall of patches just inside the entrance to the station—incidentally, one of Glenn’s coworkers is now the proud owner of a classic E26/T15 “Foghorn Leghorn” patch.


ireland_RL-17_sm(I bet they hate the sound of their printer winding up, too.)


ireland_RL-26_smAfter Firefighter Delves (unfortunately) stated that he disliked his appointed nickname of “Glennsy,” the jokes compounded until his gear was permanently branded with “Glennsy Delvesy” in permanent marker. Much to his chagrin, he discovered it just as he was escorting these visitors through the facilities.


ireland_RL-28_smThe distinctive markings on this helmet indicate the rank of “sub-officer;” personnel advance from Firefighter to Sub-Officer to Station Officer to District Officer and beyond, receiving increasing responsibilities with each promotion.


ireland_RL-25_smWe arrived just in time for evening shift change, so we were witness to the daily equipment checks; it would appear that DFB ladder technicians get to ride in comfortable style while operating the turntable.


ireland_RL-24_sm(I would be remiss if I didn’t include something about “raising” a “ladder”, no? Terrible joke, I’m sorry.) Both DFB aerial ladders within the Tara Street Station reach 100′ in the air when fully extended. “There aren’t too many high-rises throughout the city,” say Firefighter Delves, “but we’re downtown. The business district around us has the highest buildings you’ll see in Dublin.”


ireland_RL-16_smAll hose carried on the apparatus is kept rolled. At a fire, the equivalent of the American lineman’s position would get off the piece, unroll a section of hose, connect a nozzle, and then advance to the structure; the Dublin Fire Brigade does not utilize pre-connected lines.


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The DFB operates on a 39-hour work week, across four shifts (designated A through D). The spacious accommodations of Tara Street are more than enough to feed and house approximately forty personnel per shift, from firefighter through the on-duty District Officer.

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On a non-fire department note: a little bit later, I’ll add some pictures from the highlights of the remainder of my vacation. I know it’s not particularly relevant to RL as a whole, but it’s a beautiful country, and I would highly recommend Ireland for anyone who enjoys traveling.

Back from Ireland… pictures to follow soon!

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Alright, between unpacking, fixing my jet lag, and backing up all my camera’s memory cards, it’ll be a little bit before I can put something together about the DFB. Suffice it to say, we were treated to a great tour through the firehouse, had some hilarious banter with the guys… and I even snagged a DFB t-shirt (after exchanging one from E26, of course).

Like I said, more to come—but it’ll be a good one.

/RL

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Leaving for Ireland today! (plus pictures)

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Be safe, everyone… I’ll see you all in about a week!

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I had some film developed recently, and I thought I’d add a few of my (decidedly older) shots, just for kicks. I’ve always liked the grainy look of real film—almost unheard of in this age of digital.

/RL

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Demotivational Posters, among other things.

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I’ve been gearing up for Ireland and redesigning RaisingLaddersPhotography.com, so I haven’t had much time for writing lately.

I do, however, have a few gems that I made a while back tucked away for just this occasion—enjoy the photos!

They’re quite the throwback to Academy days—a strange mixture, but I think that’s what makes them fun. You’ll find the remainder of them in a new gallery here. Some of the images contain explicit language, so be forewarned.

/RL

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P.S. – the two above photos were from an early morning fire in the 1300 block of Trinidad Ave; E10 held the fire at the stairs, while E8 (second-due) got the knock on the basement fire. WUSA9 has a quick tidbit here about the fire.

CONSISTENCY_smOh, 358. We were… interesting.

Enjoy the rest of the posters.

I used to like snow. Really, I did.

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I used to like playing in the snow, stomping through it… snowball fights, snow angels, the whole nine wintery yards.

But after working in all this?

I’m kicking the head right off of the next snowman I see (and see them I will, because it’s dumping snow right now and I’m working tomorrow).

So many streets were impassable, even with snow chains. Many of our calls involved parking the engine and ambulance way down the block and hiking our equipment through the streets to get to the patient’s house—which may or may not offer us a shoveled walkway for access.

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I lost count of how many times we had to dig the ambulance out. The engine became stuck a few times, too—and without fail, as soon as we dig ourselves out, here comes a shout from down the street: “Hey, can you guys come give us a hand?”

Why you’re out here at this ungodly hour of the night, trying to make headway on an unplowed street in a little-ass sedan, I have no idea. But never mind that, intelligent citizen. We’d be happy to assist you in your time of need. *grumble*

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A few funny moments:

  • Walking back down the street—carrying the med bag, cardiac monitor, and O2 bottle—I slipped and landed, cartoon-style, right on my ass (I only wish the oxygen bottle hadn’t fallen between my legs at that exact instant). A few concerned folks who were out shoveling their sidewalks sharply stifled their laughter and asked if I was okay. Ah, everything’s okay here; my pride broke my fall.
  • Warning: not all packed snow is as sturdy as you might think. Standing on what used to be a sidewalk, I was asking questions to a patient outside. Suddenly, I found myself three feet lower than I was before. I’m sure it was quite comical (including my awkward climb out of the thigh-deep snow): “So sir, how long have you been FOOOM—uh, dammit.”
  • “Hey rookie! Why don’t you climb up front and see how the engine handles in the snow.” Shit. As I hauled myself into the driver’s seat, I experienced a horrible recurring dream that always ended with me typing a very long letter: “Dear Fire Chief…”
  • Calls delayed dinner until 8pm; calls further delayed my cleaning duties, such that I was still mopping at midnight. (Being a rookie; ain’t it grand??)
  • 1:30 a.m. – “Ma’am, how long have you been experiencing this headache?”   “Since July.”
  • 4:20 a.m. – resetting a fire alarm at a large garbage facility, slogging through (what I hope was) water as we contemplated what time our relief would arrive.

I folded up my sheets and pillow at 4:45 a.m., having not even climbed into bed once.

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As far as keeping up with changing weather conditions, Twitter can prove extremely useful.

DC Fire/EMS (@dcfireems):

DC Dept. of Transportation (@DDOTDC):

Maryland State Hwy Administration (@MDSHA):

They’re perfect for mobile updates, so you can keep updated whether you’re out and about or stuck inside.

I’ll be out there tomorrow, and I’m looking forward to another fun-filled tour on the Northeast streets…

Stay safe, everyone.

/RL

The Dublin Fire Brigade.

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Be forewarned: I have absolutely no Irish blood in me. However, given the great and long-standing tradition that those with Irish heritage hold within fire departments throughout the nation (as well as my upcoming trip to Ireland, which I’ll talk about later), I felt it only proper to craft something today about the Dublin Fire Brigade.

dubhistoricalrecord_smAlthough officially founded in 1862 by the Dublin Corporation Fire Brigade Act, the country of Ireland has written records and legislation pertaining to firefighting operations dating back to the 12th century A.D. According to the Irish Fire Services website, such archaically written gems include provisions for “forty buckets of  leather for carrying of water  to fight fires and twelve graps (sic) of iron for pulling houses that chance to be afire” (1546 A.D.), and the more absurdly graphic “…any person answerable for the burning of a street shall be arrested, cast into the middle of the fire, or pay a fine of 100 shillings” (1305 A.D.) As we would later see in the American history of volunteerism, Irish insurance companies would place “fire marks” on buildings to state which company protected the structure; for example, Sunwinetavernst Alliance placed a large metal sun with rays emanating outwards from it. (As a sidenote, Sun Alliance is still in business to this day—the original fire mark is visible at the bottom of their History page.)

The original superintendent—also known as the Chief Fire Officer—was a man by the name of J.R. Ingram, a native Dubliner who was a volunteer firefighter in both London and New York prior to his appointment. His initial brigade consisted of twenty-four men in a house off of Winetavern Street in Dublin, right near the famous Christchurch Cathedral.

ireland_mapToday, the Dublin Fire Brigade comprises almost 900 members with 14 stations, 22 fire engines, 12 ambulances, and a response area containing over 1 million citizens. The Fire Brigade runs the Emergency Ambulance Service (all the firefighters are paramedics, too) as well as staffing the call-taking center with actual firefighters.  Their apparatus is currently manufactured by UK-based John Dennis Coachbuilders, and the training regimen runs about 16 weeks for basic firefighting. As stated before, much of this information is available through their well-stocked website or this nice little find, The Irish Fire Service’s Firefighter Handbook (it’s 277 pp. and 2.71MB, so be careful opening it. You’d be better off right-clicking and downloading it if you want to read it).

So anyways, let’s get down to business. In the end of February, I’ll be traveling to Dublin for almost a week of sightseeing, vacation, and (hopefully) a good bit of photography (both fire department and otherwise)—I’ve already piqued my interest with a Flickr search!

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I’ve got some t-shirts and patches that I’m hoping to do a little trading with; what would really be great is if any readers/fellow bloggers know anyone who could get in touch with a DFB member I could meet up with. Medic 999, I’m looking at you! I know you’re in the UK, but just like us DCFD guys know some people in FDNY, I would hope you might have a few buddies in Ireland.

Any help?

Images courtesy of DCFD Emerald Society, Irish Fire Services, JSTOR.org, and Flickr users hwatterworth, bsii, and super tourist.

Finally, a first-due job… and a pretty good one, at that.

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photo-2Our wagon driver’s voice came from the front of the cab, punching through the audible mess of sirens and air horns as we screamed a left out of the firehouse.

“It’s off! This one’s off!”

The other back step guy and I looked at each other.

What?

We just left the firehouse…

…we’re nowhere near the address…

…do you see… I don’t… there’s no smoke in the sky…

…nobody’s said anything on the radio…

Nevertheless, as our brains struggled with how in the hell he knew that, we simultaneously reached back to turn our SCBA bottles on. Wayne may joke about many things, but this is not one of them. (Incredibly, he would tell us later that he knew about the fire so far in advance because of a “different cloud pattern”—his words, not mine—in the sky towards where the call was.)

We double-checked our gear, and I tightened the last of my harness straps as we made the turn onto 25th Place.

photo-1First thought: Ohhhhh yes.

Second thought: Hey dumbass! Quit staring… you have stuff to do.

As I laid out the supply hose and the wagon took off, I saw bright red paint disappear into a haze that enveloped the block. I ran to catch up to the rest of my crew, and I saw that the lineman was already masking up at the front door. I dropped to put my mask on, made sure his hose was flaked out well enough behind him, and headed inside.

What in the name of… Christmas?

Trampling through the living room and working our way towards the stairs, we found ourselves walking over an unbelievable amount of Christmas decorations. Reindeer, nutcrackers of varying sizes, tinsel, rope lights, string lights, extension cords, wrapping paper… anything you can think of, it was in our way (yes, that is Santa and his sleigh in the first picture).

The first floor had a little bit of fire going in the bathroom and kitchen (to our left and right off the small hallway, respectively). My lineman whipped the nozzle around in each room as I fed him more and more line to advance. Our ultimate goal laid in getting up the stairs to the second floor, so we knocked the first floor fairly quickly and prepared to go upstairs.

There was only one problem, which I had been warned of in the Academy (I can still hear VanHagen’s voice): “…yeah, you might have a minute or two to do your own thing, but just know that pretty soon you’re going to have about twenty other [expletive]ers coming right up your ass. If you’ve got something, it’s gonna get real crowded—real fast.”

And such was certainly the case. The third due engine company hoping to steal our fire with their own hoseline; the rescue squad trying to muscle past us to do a search…

God only knows who else was crammed in that hallway, but there wasn’t a whole lot of room to move. To top it off, it felt like every person behind us was standing on our damned hose—an unfortunate reality of being in a narrow hallway. After some pulling, some shoving, and a good deal of yelling, we had finally freed up enough line to make it up the stairs (which were rapidly turning into the world’s nastiest Slip-n-Slide made of soot, water, and melted plastic Christmas crap).photo-3

At the top of the stairs, Truck 15’s bar man was hooking the walls in front of me, and my lineman was working his way around to the left. We could see the orange glow just past the landing, and we wanted nothing more than to get in there and hit it. A few minor fires jumped up around us, sometimes beside us, sometimes behind us. George was smashing walls with his halligan bar and finding little pockets of fire; each one we extinguished put us closer and closer to the seat of the fire, as we moved inch by inch. The second floor was fully involved, and we approached the middle of the room to find the entire ceiling glowing. I sidled up beside Tate, anchoring the hose with my body so he wouldn’t have to fight as hard against the nozzle pressure. He knocked down the left side of the room, and was even nice enough to give me a minute or two on the line to knock down the right side—seeing as it was the first real house fire both of us had ever had, I was pretty damned appreciative (much to my chagrin, however, he was sure to snatch the nozzle back real quick. It was, after all, mostly his fire).

We heard the truck working around us, their saws opening up the roof and their hooks breaking out the windows. The smoke that had once surrounded us with a soupy blackness transformed into a thinner gray, and began to clear out.

And just like that, most of it was gone. We were ordered to be relieved by another company—and were running low on air anyways—so we made our way down the stairs and outside as the next engine sprayed down what little licks of fire were left.

photo-6Outside, we all peeled our masks off. Our coats were steaming, our faces were sweating, and our gear was fully soaked with dirty water.

But we had done it.

Engine 26 had fought the beast, and we won—and we had a kick-ass time doing it, too.

We cleared that call several hours later—after the inevitable and exhausting overhaul work of tearing stuff up, shoveling it into buckets, and piling it in the front yard—with soot on our faces and pride in our hearts.

Sounds corny, doesn’t it? Well, it’s true. The two of us spent the rest of that tour smiling, having finally done something that many people only dream of as a small child in a Halloween costume. Anyone older and more jaded experienced than I will probably say I’m just a young excited kid, still wet behind the ears and with much to learn—and they’re absolutely right. I’m still far too young on this job to know my ass from my elbow, but I’m having way too much fun for anyone to damper my spirits.

photo-5Say what you will, gentlemen—critique to your heart’s content, if you wish. But remember that you, too, had a first fire. It may not have been perfect, it may not have been a big story in the local paper. But it was yours, and it was your first.

I’ve got some great guys around to teach me and plenty of time for them to do so; for now, congratulations—here’s to Engine 26 gettin’ it done!

Proudly,

/RL

P.S. – My apologies to the big dude from Truck 6. Give me a call and I’ll buy you a beer.

Image © available upon request, used with permission.

DCFD’s own in Haiti, plus picture compilations.

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First and foremost, I’m proud to see one of DCFD’s own searching for survivors after the terrible earthquake in Haiti.

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From www.tampabay.com’s All Eyes feature: Christopher Holmes from the Fairfax County Urban Search and Rescue searches for survivors in the rubble of a building after a massive earthquake on January 14, 2010 in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Planeloads of rescuers and relief supplies headed to Haiti as governments and aid agencies launched a massive relief operation after a powerful earthquake killing possibly thousands. Numerous buildings were reduced to rubble by the 7.0-strong quake on January 12. (Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Sergeant Holmes and his dog before, and they do make quite the team together. Great work, Sarge—be safe out there.

Dave Statter of Statter911 has been doing an excellent job chronicling the efforts Virginia’s Task Forces One and Two; more information (video interviews, news updates, pictures, etc.) is available here.

Alan Taylor, the brains behind Boston.com’s The Big Picture, has kept up an excellent feed of images from various stages of collapse, rescue, and recovery; Earthquake in Haiti; Haiti 48 Hours Later; Haiti Six Days Later.

(As he writes on the Big Picture “About” page, these photos are the best selections from various wire services that flow into the Boston Globe; he’s got a hell of an eye, and I eagerly await the Mon/Wed/Fri updates.)

Lastly, I’d like to include this image: from the UK’s Evening Star comes a photograph from Port au Prince (© Matthew McDermott) that shows a much greater side than most of the typical pictures of death and destruction so rampant in the news today.

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This is Kiki, an eight-year-old boy who was rescued in the Nazan district after being trapped for over a week underneath the rubble. I’d be pretty ecstatic, too!

A great job and best wishes to every rescue worker who is down in Haiti doing something to help—and here’s to hoping everyone makes it home safely.

“Documenting the Decade” – or, how I made the New York Times!

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A few weeks back, the New York Times website asked for submissions to be considered in their “Documenting the Decade” feature. I figured I’d toss some of my work into the ring, and two of my photographs were selected! I mean, it’s not the print version (which I’ve always wanted to be included in)—but with the advent of the internet and e-book readers like the Amazon Kindle, who reads physical newspapers anymore?

I do, damnit. Hands covered in newsprint are an archaic badge of honor… so I’m still going for the print edition someday.

Screenshots below lead to full-size images. The first is from Inauguration Day, and the second is from the weekend blizzard the east coast had in the middle of December.

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Georgetown University EMS: a story in photos.

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A little while back, I spent a day with Georgetown University’s EMS system (officially yet whimsically known as “G.E.R.M.S”). I originally contacted their PR director because I was intrigued by the notion of an independent emergency service provider that operates within a city that already has a full-coverage Fire and EMS Department. It’s not a bad little operation; the providers are competent and excited to work, their training regimen goes above and beyond the national minimum standards, and there’s certainly no shortage of undergraduate students eager to join the ranks. As an entirely student-run organization under the umbrella of Campus Safety, they have developed as an excellent resource on campus whose response and subsequent medical care has proved useful to students, faculty, and visitors alike.These frames and accompanying text are what I dug up one rainy afternoon with G.E.R.M.S.

Click on the photos below for the larger, more-readable version!

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Thank you to the entire G.E.R.M.S administrative and training staff, with a special thank-you to Brendan Maggiore (VP of Operations), without whom this endeavor would never have come together. If anyone would like to see additional pictures from that day, all of them are available in this gallery on Raising Ladders Photography.

Keep up the great work, G.E.R.M.S.!

/RL

P.S. – an interesting bit of lore: on a shelf above the staff mailboxes, there is an old frame holding a conundrum of a photograph. It is, quite clearly, a glamour shot of actor Danny Glover. However, upon closer inspection, it says “To Germs, continue your great work. Danny Glover.” The strangest part? Nobody has any idea how it ended up there. Despite the photo’s prominent location for “quite some time now” (i.e. longer than anyone whom I asked remembers), there are no records, memories, or even legends of its origin. One G.E.R.M.S. member took it upon himself to look back more than a decade into the service’s employment records, interviewing and calling prior staffers about the photo—nevertheless, the search proved once again fruitless.

Any ideas?

Recruit Class 360: congratulations, and good luck! (w/pictures)

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Happy New Year! Yes, I haven’t put up a new post since last year, but there were several factors that led to this:

  1. I wanted to leave the Nikon Festival instructions up for a while, so visitors could make sure to see them (be sure to vote if you haven’t already, and tell your friends/coworkers about it!);
  2. I’ve been keeping busy by helping a recently-graduated recruit class with photography;
  3. I wanted to finish processing all the photos before I posted any of them here.

Anyways, most of that is boring stuff you don’t care about. Let’s get to the pictures!

Some context: Recruit Class 360 invited me along on a special tour (i.e. not the one that the general public gets) tour of the Capitol Building, so the first four photos are a few shots from our chilly winter trek to downtown D.C. They also took one of their official class photos there.

They liked my work, so they asked me to come along to their graduation on December 31st, in which public speaker and Pro Football Hall-of-Famer John Riggins was the guest of honor—the remaining photos are some of my favorite frames from the ceremony.

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Mayor Adrian Fenty stopped by to deliver his remarks, and then shook the hand of each member of 360.

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Mr. Riggins was given a ceremonial helmet, signed by the recruits from 360, as well as a new pair of boots for working around his farm.

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This last frame is my personal favorite from the entire day. Mr. Riggins’ daughter was present at the ceremony with him, and I caught her just as she was trying on Dad’s new helmet.

The full sets of both the Capitol Tour and the Graduation are available through my other site, RaisingLaddersPhotography; there, you’ll find all of these pictures and more, plus all the “hold your certificate and grin at the camera” shots that are inevitable at any ceremony. They’re cheesy but necessary—tell your mother to buy a few!

Just a quick note: All of my photos are my exclusive property, and should not be used, printed, or displayed without my express permission… *ahem*  Engine 6 / Truck 4, I’m looking at you! (source). I’d be more than happy to agree to the use of my photos, I just want to know if you’re doing it.

All the best to the new Probationers from Recruit Class 360; one of them is coming to E26 on the shift after me, so I’ll be seeing him more than a few times; to the rest of you, thank you for the wonderful opportunities to be a part of your graduation. Take care, and good luck!

/RL

The Raising Ladders video made it the final round!

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Yes, it’s true… out of well over a thousand videos, mine was selected as one of the final fifty contenders.

I’m very grateful to FireCritic (as well as Captain Wines of Roanoke City Engine 9, who originally passed it on to FireCritic) for plugging my video on his site; all that remains until the contest is over is for everyone to vote on it. Audience participation is held in high regard, so please help me out and give my video a ratings boost!

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Engine 26 is (almost) famous… again!

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Damn, first we’re in a (most excellent) short film, and now a TV show! Well, almost.

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Thursday evening, a film crew came by the firehouse to shoot a segment for Extreme Forensics, a show on the Discovery Channel. The subject matter was D.C. area arsonist, Thomas A. Sweatt, who started a wave of fires several years ago in Maryland and the District. One of the 37 fires he admitted to was a two-alarm in June of 2003, in which an 86-year-old woman lost her life.

Extreme Forensics, realizing that E-26 had responded to that particular location on Evarts St, NE, showed up and asked if some of the guys who were actually on that fire could re-create a bit of the action—you know, run to the engine, put on boots, jump in, pull out with the lights and sirens going.

Wait a minute. Does some of that scene sound familiar to you?

(Yeah, the guys were a lot more amenable to following their directions than mine… damn this red tag! Hey, I got it done under more extreme circumstances. There were more than a few “creative directions” that ended up on my cutting room floor…)

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I can only assume from watching those forensic shows that the footage will be either heavily vignetted/put in black-and-white (so the audience knows it happened in the past); slowed by about 50% (to add dramatic tension); and given an over-the-top voiceover by a man with a pleasing baritone voice.

It won’t air until next year, but supposedly the production company will provide us with a copy of the episode.

What’s next?

You know you’re a probationer when:

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• You’re telling your friends where to meet up later that night, but directions to the bar include “it’s right near the hydrant on the southwest corner,” or “…it’ll be in the twelve-hundred-block of  Connecticut Ave.”

• “Yes, sir” has entered your everyday lexicon, even at home.

• Directions to your house have ended with the phrase “…to box.”*

• When a late-night phone call suddenly wakes you up, your legs swing out of bed and you fumble around in the dark for your boots. Oh wait… yep, I’m in my apartment. Dammit.

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• When responding to even the simplest of questions, one must fight off the urge to recite what particular article, section, and sub-section the answer comes from in the Department Order Book.

• You have become very, very good at washing dishes.

• Between your name tag, Probationer tag, and your collar brass, various items get snagged or ripped off your uniform all the time. Thus, wearing any collared shirt at home has become an exercise in absent-mindedly touching your clothing to make sure everything is pinned on properly—and then realizing that you’re an idiot.

• While you’re running errands, the distinct ring of a multi-line phone system causes you to look around and think for a split second that you have to go answer it. You soon realize you’re in bank, or an office, or a restaurant.

• Similarly, you have an unexplainable urge to answer your cell phone within two rings.

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Note: The phrase “…to box” is a reference to the information book in the firehouse. If you flip it open and look up a certain box number in our response area, the directions read something like this:

Box 1234: Left on Smith Street, right on Jones Avenue, right on Davis Terrace to box.

National Fallen Firefighter’s Memorial – Live Streaming Feed!

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For anyone who is unable to physically attend the memorial ceremonies in Emmitsburg, MD this weekend, Firehouse.com is offering live streaming coverage of both the candlelit vigil Saturday night and the ceremony on Sunday. 

More information is available at the link above, or at STATter911.

Random thoughts from last tour.

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Don't stick your head too far out the window to look at stuff when driving around—while wagon drivers are quite adept at avoiding obstacles, tree branches don't really count.

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Chicken gravy is a rather unprofessional thing to find splattered on your pants as you pull up to a medical call. It's even worse to reach in your pocket for gloves and find an actual piece of chicken.

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When you encounter someone who clearly blows you off/ignores you when you make an effort to introduce yourself (simply because you're a rookie), the very next person you meet will give you hell for not introducing yourself.

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Corrollary to the above: You can't win—but try anyways.

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It's great fun to look through a Fire Department yearbook (if that's what it is; it's a similar layout) from thirteen years ago and look up your current instructors/officers/chiefs. There's some wonderful history to be found… and some excellent mid-nineties haircuts.*

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If you sleep late in the bunkroom after you've been relieved, you may or may not be awakened by an air horn and a strip of firecrackers thrown in the door like a SWAT-team's flashbang grenades. I, uh… heard about that happening once. In a magazine. Yeah, it was in a magazine.

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I wasn't aware that they sell pink tank tops with "FLIRTY SEXY SPOILED GIRL" written in glitter… in XXL sizes.


/RL


*It's not mine, so I'm trying to grab a few snapshots. Trust me, I want the pictures, too.

We’re everywhere…

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The list goes on and on. Every time I look online, there's a new product/service/business offered from, inspired by, or aimed at firefighters. It's always interesting to find something new and read the "About" page to see how this particular product came about; if there's one thing firefighters are good at, it's telling stories!

Most, if not all, of the products share a few common traits.

1) A percentage of the profits go to charitable organizations (burn foundations, etc.)
2) The products are usually lauded as "time-tested;" the idea is that if something can withstand the rigors of a firehouse and the critique of the old-school guys, it has to be good.
3) They stemmed from firemen who have genuine interests in a particular field, like cooking or fitness—not a snake oil salesman looking to make a quick buck off of something like the Pet Rock.

I recently acquired a bottle of Three Alarm Cellars wine, and it was delicious. The artwork on the label (a 1945 Diamond T Fire Engine) is all hand-drawn by a Captain of the Sonoma Fire Department in California.

Any readers have any great stuff that's created/inspired by firefighters that I didn't mention? Leave it in the comments!

The Farm: a brief introduction.

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"Weren't you guys trying to grow something out here a while back?"

The wagon driver turned from the engine's pump panel and rubbed a thoughtful hand on his chin.

"Yeah, we had tried growing corn out back of the firehouse… don't think it worked, though."

As he turned back to the engine, I couldn't seem to restrain the incredulous smile that played at my lips.

Where in the hell did they assign me?

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Several shifts back, I received orders from on high that I was to report to my permanent assignment. So, I said goodbye to Southeast D.C. and ventured northward to a station colloquially known as "The Farm."


(And yes, that is in fact Foghorn Leghorn on the patch.)

Engine 26 is located in Northeast Washington, in a neighborhood called Brentwood. I can't speak much for the area—since I'm still just barely learning how to get around—but it seems like a pretty standard layout; some nice stuff, some ghetto stuff, and a whole bunch of high-potential-to-burn-to-the-ground stuff.

I'm never certain what to expect in a new house, so I try to keep quiet and let more senior firefighters (read: everyone who's not me) be the first to say anything; in the case of certain guys, they're the first to say everything. Much to my relief, the crew has proved to be significantly more pleasant than I expected. In addition to Engine 26, "The Farm" is also the quarters of Truck 15. All together, the two crews have been acting as very helpful resources for the wonderful chunk of my life known as my probationary period. 

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Luckily, the guys at E15 were nice enough to give me a heads up about being a "probie," so I had no trouble falling into the "hey rookie, make the coffee, answer the phones, put the flag up" routine. 

Now, I just have to weather the probationary questions and official tests—two of which will be administered by the First Battalion Chief. 


Monthly tests… learning the local alarm area… remembering EMS protocols (why did I become a paramedic again?)… completing computerized trip sheets… cleaning up… 

Some days my head spins. Everyone says that this little whirlwind will all be over soon; I'm not sure if that's true or not, but I do know this: it's one hell of a way to keep busy. 

Study hard, rookie. Study hard.

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Honoring our brothers in Buffalo.

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The walkway at the National Fallen Firefighter's Memorial. It's paved with inscriptions about our nation's bravest, donated by their loved ones. The post I wrote many months ago still rings true, and I feel a twinge in my heart when I think about how much this memorial site means to so many people.

This weekend, I was at the Academy for a two-day training class. While I was there, I found out that the three recruit classes currently at the school all traveled up to Buffalo, NY to honor the two firefighters who died in a structure fire last Monday. I'm not sure when they arrived back home, but I wanted to offer some recognition for their display of support and brotherhood. 


You never know when or where a tragedy like this will strike, but it's good to know that fellow comrades across the nation are willing to help. 

A heartfelt thank-you is in order to Recruit Classes 359, 360, and 361; may the two fallen firefighters of the Buffalo Fire Department rest in peace, and may their families be taken care of in their time of need.

Incidentally, the city of Buffalo pushed back their annual Wing Festival in their honor; the festival was now slated to begin today, and donations at the event will go to aiding the families of Lt. Charles "Chip" McCarthy and Firefighter Jonathan Croom. 

Please see the Buffalo IAFF 232 website for more information on how you can donate money to the fund by check or by buying a BFD memorial t-shirt.

Raising Ladders Photography, open for business!

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Phew. Between work and a recent house guest, it's been a little crazy around here. From a writing perspective, the past two shifts have been kind of unremarkable, so I don't have any crazy stories off the top of my head. 

However, enough interest was generated by an earlier post that I've been working a lot to finalize my business ideas, and I know that if I don't post this today, I'll never get past the constant "maybe I can tweak one more thing…" voice that lurks in my head. Check it out, think about it, and let's talk.

JPEG preview below just for a quick look, but lossy upload software from the blog (not my doing) has made it look a bit washed-out. 

Easily printable, high-resolution PDF available for download here:  Download Raising Ladders Photography 2009

Note: as long as your monitor has a properly-calibrated color profile, it should look just fine. I tested the documents with a few different PCs; some were horribly over-saturated, and it makes everything look all wonky. Just another reason why I do all my work exclusively on a Mac, I suppose.

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Many thanks to WeLoveDC!

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My interview with WeLoveDC was posted to their website on Wednesday morning. (I'd have gotten around to this earlier, but I was working that day and spent the entirety of Thursday sleeping… it was a long night.)


Lots of credit is due to Katie, the interviewer extraordinaire, and also to Tom for originally picking up Raising Ladders.

And it's not a half-bad self-portrait, if I do say so myself. Clean portraits like this are surprisingly easy to set up, so I'd be happy to do a shoot if any local firefighters are interested; wives and/or girlfriends (haha, kidding) love this kind of stuff. If you're curious, see this post for more information and ideas.

/RL

Projects.

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On the way back from a call, I often think that there were certain situations/moments that would have lent themselves very nicely to a photographer's presence. It's the potential action shots, mostly; but there are of course some interesting, compelling, and out-right ridiculous moments in this job that would most likely never present themselves the same way again (imagine actually being able to see the scene where the crackhead from a few weeks ago found out I was a rookie and stormed off. Images make any story better!)


I haven't been writing on RL for the past week because I've been working on a way to combine my love of photography with my love of this job; while not as extreme (and highly illegal, in the case of medical calls) as stopping what I'm doing to take pictures of stuff/people while I'm actually working, I'm convinced that there is a way to mix these fields. 

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On my off-days, I've been photographing events around the city (performances, a friend's wedding here or there… you get the idea). I've recently been updating Raising Ladders Photography, and I think it's time to branch out a bit. 

From a photojournalistic point of view, there's quite a few stories to be had within the fire service as a whole. Besides, from knowing a handful of people on this job, everyone loves pictures of themselves. I would get emails from guys in the Academy almost every weekend, asking if I could hurry up and post the pictures of them doing Academy stuff so they can show their friends and family. 

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"What'd you do at work today, honey?"
"Oh, nothing really…"

I'm thinking that I could turn this into a nice little portfolio gig. Whether firefighters want posed shots, candid shots of them drilling or on the scene, or even just technically accurate images of their firehouse/apparatus, I can provide them with that. Additionally, it would allow everyone to enjoy themselves at banquets, graduations, retirement dinners, company barbecues, etc. without having to worry about who's taking pictures of it all (Hint: people REALLY love it when you have a slideshow running somewhere of pictures as you're taking them. Yes, it's possible; it actually works really well for wedding receptions.) 

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Recruit Class 358 around the 9/11 Memorial at the Newseum in Washington, D.C.

Photographer ride-alongs strike me as the most exciting possibility, because then it's just a fast-paced, "run-and-gun" scenario (thanks to David Hobby of Strobist for the terminology; as a former Baltimore Sun staff photog with an awesome website, he really knows his stuff). 

I suppose the only challenge now is contacting everyone with what I've been working on, and drumming up some business. So, readers, I entreat you: does this sound like something feasible? Leave some comments* if the idea strikes you as interesting, or if you have any suggestions for me!

/RL

* Seriously, what's with the lack of comments? Is everyone just here to shovel their faces with writing and skip out on the check? I know the posts aren't always great, but at least let me know what you think of 'em. Especially ones like this, where I'd really like to hear your input!

Details.

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A page from The Writer's Block, a cube-shaped book (get it?) 
full of random ideas to jump-start the creative half of your brain. 
I was flipping through it the other day and found this page.

"Paramedic Engine 15 and Ambulance 15, respond for the cardiac arrest…"


Dammit. I haven't even done the run sheet from the last call, I thought as I rose from my chair.

As we pulled up to the outside of a laundromat, a gathering crowd partially obscured our view. As best we could tell, there was one guy on the ground, and other kneeling next to him performing CPR. Sean hopped out and made his way over to the group while I grabbed the ALS bag and the monitor from the rear compartment. 

"Come on, move out of the way… move it!"

As I approached with gear in tow, I could hear a plea for the crowd to give us some space. The bystander who was doing CPR stood up, brushed his pants off, and started fumbling through his pockets for something as Sean did a quick assessment of our patient. 

As if in some surreal form of stereo, I suddenly had information coming from both sides that smashed together in my brain hard enough to stun me for a second.

CPR guy, right channel: "See, I did it right! I got my certifications right here, man!" He produced the fruits of his frantic pocket search, shoving a wallet-worn and very out-of-date American Red Cross CPR card in my face.

Sean, left channel: "Uh, this guy's got a pulse. And a good strong one, at that."

Um…

(#296 on my list of Things I Wish I Had Said to Bystanders: 

"Well then you, my good sir, did not pay enough attention in class.")

The ambulance was already there, and we scooped the patient up and loaded him into the back. He wasn't breathing enough on his own, so we assisted with ventilations until I could get an IV started. It appeared to be a pretty textbook narcotic overdose, so I grabbed the Narcan* and pushed it into the IV line. 

A moment later: [retch] "What the— where the hell am I?"

"You fell out, man. Looks like you took a little too much tonight, and you stopped breathing."

"That's bull, man. Why y'all lying to me? I'm a gangsta, son."

(#297: "You're right, sir. We must have put all these wires and tubes all over you by accident. Our apologies! Please continue with your recreational activities.")

This went on for a while. Ultimately, he refused all further care from us. We talked him down from just ripping all the stuff off himself, but he still wanted to leave the back of the ambulance as soon as possible. 

As he stepped out, he was heckled by his friends, who by now had formed into a small social gathering that smelled faintly of malt liquor. 

One of his more illustrious acquaintances, upon hearing repeated statements of how "gangsta" our patient thought himself, decided to show that she was considerably more so by pulling a large handful of bright yellow boxer shorts out above the waistline of her pants. 

"You ain't nothin', man. I got Spongebob-mothaf***in'-Squarepants. What you got, huh?!"

This may or may not have been the same person who was initially rubbing loose ice cubes on the patient's genitals shortly before we arrived on scene. (Some people think that the cold shock will wake up an overdose patient, but current trends in "D.C. bystander medicine" are best saved for another post. Two words to remember: dairy products.)

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The first time I flipped through that Writer's Block book, I must have been in middle or high school. I'm sure I saw the above page, but never ended up using it as a story idea. However, I sincerely believe that if I had followed the instructions at the time, it would have sounded nothing like what I've written in this blog to date. 

Imagination and creativity are one thing; documenting reality is entirely another. 

Oftentimes, I find the latter to be way more entertaining. 

WeLoveDC.com; publicity for RL!

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Tom Bridge, co-founder and author of WeLoveDC.com came across Raising Ladders the other day, and he liked it so much that he posted a brief write-up in the WLDC daily feed.

WeLoveDC.com is a collective blog written by a diverse population of authors who all have one thing in common: they are all enamored with Washington. Whether about politics (of course), food, culture, technology, or any other topic beneath the tip of the Monument, these authors have got it covered.

I honestly didn't expect such kind words, and for that I'm very grateful. Many thanks to Tom and the entire WLDC team!

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Last night 15 had a typical "no-sleep-due-to-a-call-every-forty-five-minutes" kinda night. I felt like a zombie this morning, which I've concluded is due to walking throughout a run-down four-building complex for an hour, forcing doors to try and turn off a malfunctioning fire alarm. 

Sure, I understand you don't want building occupants messing with the utility closets, which is why you've placed four different damned locks on the two doors that are barricading the one doorway. Okay, fine. We got through 'em anyways. 

Yawn. Let's pretend it's a forcible entry drill, reset the alarm, and get back to the firehouse already. 

Nope. 

3 a.m.: Respond for the "tummyache" (yes, that was actually the complaint).

4 a.m.: "I think there's a bug in my ear." (Actually, it was more like "AHH HOLY MOTHER OF [censored for the children] THERE'S A BUG IN MY EAR GETITOUT GETITOUT GETITOUT!")
Sigh… I don't suppose it'll even be worth it to try and sleep next tour. Friday night in Southeast? Not a chance.

I, however, wouldn't want it any other way. 

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Who knew a vinyl Halloween costume could mean something after so many years?

(I don't think I'll still be able to fit into it, though. I should probably stick to the gear I was issued. It seems… safer.) 

A different view of D.C.

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The John H. Glenn Jr., Washington, D.C.'s 70'-long flagship fireboat. 
It was built in 1962 for the FDNY, and was purchased by DCFD in 1977 for one dollar.

All the air inside my drysuit escaped with an audible whoosh as I stretched the rubber neck seal outwards, à la Rodney Dangerfield. I struggled to stay upright in the water as air compressed upward from every limb of the suit, mindful of the multiple warnings to keep District river water out of my mouth ("…you won't leave the bathroom for a few days, kid.")

Once I had finally settled myself, I looked around again to marvel at what I was doing today (and I'm getting paid for this?!)

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Rescue 3 and Engine 15 had put the boats in at Anacostia Park, and we had motored our way over to where the DCFD Fireboat is harbored. Shortly thereafter, I joined a few other guys who were repeatedly dragged over the bow as the crew of RS-3 practiced "saving" us.

I had never seen the city from the Potomac or the Anacostia before, so the views from the water were an interesting perspective. Needless to say, just zooming around was relaxing enough; it was a beautiful day to be on the water, and everybody had a great time while we ran our drill. 

(Nevermind that my suit had a leak in it; I doffed the outfit to find my clothes completely soaked. Thank God I bring an extra uniform to work with me…)

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I took a few neat bridge shots that I thought lent themselves well to black-and-white.

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As far as my recent meeting with the Medical Director goes, it was a very well-structured test of our knowledge up to this point. While the Doc ran us through varying scenarios to assess our medical knowledge, the Assistant Chief of EMS asked us operational questions to see if we had picked up on the nuances of being an engine company paramedic. Apparently we're all satisfactory, because we were released a few hours later with word that we'd have permanent assignments within the next few weeks. For now, we all stay with our current preceptors.