"St. E's for the building!"
Chairs went flying back from the table, miraculously not getting in the way of any of the large guys sprinting towards a single door. Like some bizarre, mustachioed and beer-gutted ballet, dancers in black boots weaved their way around any and all obstacles on the way to the apparatus bay.
Before our forks could settle where they were thrown onto the table, the kitchen was empty.
"Man… some bullshit again."
The run had turned out to be routinely boring, with a small mattress fire on an upper floor that (I believe*) the staff had extinguished themselves. As second-due, Engine 15 had pulled our 400' line up through a rear stairwell, and we were busy re-racking the line when I heard a commotion from above.
At first it was just one figure. A single fuzzy outline, with his arms outstretched above his head.
Then the banging on the glass started, and another blurry shape joined him.
As if from a bad zombie movie, more and more figures began showing up at the third-floor window. The only clear outlines against the frosted glass were their hands, pressed up firmly to the surface. The rest of their shapes blended backwards into a mess of limbs, indistinguishable from the other bodies crowded around them.
The illustrious inmates of St. Elizabeth's Mental Hospital were officially awake—and judging from the cacophony resonating off the window, they were not happy about the lights and sirens that woke them.
"Uh-oh. They're up. They're going to be calling all night long."
"Yeah… but at least it's 25's area."
I wish I had a picture of it. It would have been perfect for a horror movie poster.
*This happened a few tours ago, and I was thinking about it today. I don't recall the details perfectly, so forgive me if something's a little off.