An Alarming Moment

Our family has a household smoke alarm and it's finicky. It goes off without warrant, especially when someone opens the bathroom door unleashing the steam built up after a long hot shower. Another diagnosis we had was that the alarm was just detecting dust particles and cobwebs from the attic. We would make Larry, my dad, go and clean it out.

This week the alarm was acting up again. Standing on a chair I had carried from a nearby room, I was able to muzzle, unscrew, and tap the screeching device until it ceased. My ears nearly bled, but I got it to stop. Everyone in the family despises this alarm, but we put up with it because it could potentially save our house (the uncharred parts) and our lives in the event of a real fire disaster.

Today the alarm went off. My brother was upstairs near the alarm, but chose to go in his room down the hall and shut the door rather than taking the intitiative to end the annoying blare. My mom and I were downstairs. After 20 minutes, the shrillness got to her so she decided to escape it by going outside to water some plants on the deck. My brother and mother both elected to let the siren go because they didn't want to deal with it. After pondering the situation for a minute, I rationalized that none of us should have to put up with this incessant alarm and that I was going to take charge and do something about it. The alarm got louder and louder as I approached the top of the stairs, and before I could think or blink, I had already punched my fist into the plastic disc, up into the ceiling. The alarm stopped. My hand was puffy, white, and numb with trickles of blood starting to pool up around my knuckles. It was a moment of jubilance, pain, awe.

I have only one viable explanation for what I did. I must have been innately possessed by the soul-jolting squeal and it inflicted deep psychological anguish inside of me. I know I did not intend on busting up the smoke alarm and the surrounding dry wall when I made the conscious decision to take action on the matter. I think it was an evolutionary reflex. It was like: this sound is hurting my eardrums and it's a threat to the survival of me and my kinsmen so it has to end, NOW! It was just a genuine human reaction.

Another interesting thing is the group psychology of the situation. My brother and mother both thought something is wrong here, it's affecting all of us, I don't really want to deal with it right now, I hope someone else does something about it. It reminds me of the murder of Kitty Genovese where dozens of people heard her scream on the street below as she was being fatally stabbed, but no one bothered to try to help, or even call 911 for that matter. The bystanders all watched her die and listened to her frantic screams from their apartment windows.

So anyway, with respect to this smoke alarm, I took matters into my own hands (just the right one, actually) and was able to end the alarming nuisance. My brother has been calling me the "man of the hour" since. Larry, my dad, was fuming when he saw the damage, but later, after I explained the circumstances, I saw him flash a grin. And my mother was just happy the ear-splitting shriek had ended.

I learned two things from this. The first is that in the end, you're all you've got. You can't on other people to do anything. The second is that no matter how aware you are of your actions, some of them are intrinsic, involuntary, and out of your conscious control. These actions are instinctively built into our genetic makeup and whether we like it or not we must come to accept them and also, to expect them.

Bandaged and sedate,


Andy