How To Be The First One Out Of This Burning Building
You weren’t the first to smell the smoke and that was your first mistake. You can’t afford to make another. Your whole life you’ve been second. Second place in the county fair hammer throw. Second guy to get kicked out of your co-ed basketball league for threatening the ref. Second father to your stepkids.
But not this time. Just listen to me and I’ll make damn sure you’re the first one out of this burning building. Before any other man, woman, or stepchild.
You can hear the anxious murmurs from the hordes of shoppers around you. The smell of smoke spreads through the air. You’re on the second floor of this department store and you know what’s coming next. It’s going to be like Thanksgiving 2019 all over again. Except for this time, the mass and chaotic exodus will be the result of a fire, and not you accusing your wife at the dinner table of still being in love with her first husband. You will always be second to her—
Focus! To everyone else, this is an escape from a deadly situation. To you, this is a competition. A race, in which a first-place finish would mean everything.
You can see the smoke now too. This place is about to go up in flames. The time to act is now. See that guy in the men’s outerwear aisle? He’s taller than you and has the same athletic build as Mike, the first, true patriarch of your family. Quick. Go up to him and open-hand slap him across the face. Not too hard but just loud enough to make a big SMACK. Everyone will turn. He’ll say something like, “I was just slapped!” The crowd will shift their focus from the fiery danger to the ageless, hot dude you just gifted a red cheek.
Nice distraction. My plan is working.
With haste, you sneak your way to the emergency stairwell, avoiding the overcrowded escalator. Just trust me on this one. You notice an elderly woman hobbling towards your escape route. You gently tap her on the shoulder and feign a worried sincerity as you tell her, “This exit is closed, ma’am.” She’s not buying it and asks you if you “work here.” You reply, “Yes, but I forgot my uniform. One of those days,” you chuckle as your right eye twitches. She looks at you all puzzled, just like your wife when you shouted Mike’s name during sex —
Hey! Snap out of it!
You’re getting desperate when you notice the store intercom next to the emergency exit. You pick it up. “Hey everyone. No need to panic,” your ‘professional voice’ echoes over the panicked crowd. “Everything is under control. Just stay put.” You hang up and smile politely at the old lady before pointing off into the distance, “Hey, look over there!” She totally falls for it and you slide through the exit unscathed. Everything is going according to plan, but the clock is ticking in this race (and in your marriage)—
My bad! That one was on me.
It’s getting hotter and hotter as you fly down the stairs and bolt towards the double-wide exit doors. The finish line is near. The heat is unbearable but all of that won’t matter once you’re outside. The first to be outside. You burst through the doors…
Then… You see me. Mike. I’m just a hallucination but I’m surrounded by very real flames, and I’m cracking up. What a gas. In your vulnerable state, I totally led you astray to the basement and source of the inferno. You lose the race and I win. You fool! I can’t wait to tell my biological kids that their second-rate dad randomly slapped some guy that kind of looked like me—
Wait! Where are you going?? Don’t leave me here! Those doors lock from the inside, man. I was only joking, c’mon, it’s getting really hot! Ahhhhh NOOOO ARGHEhrhufrgh……
