Yesterday, as I was driving home from my Weight Watchers meeting (where I learned that I gained six-tenths of a pound this week — but my clothes are falling off so I’m not bothered by this… Apparently my body is working on inches right now and not pounds), I was chatting with Nancy. As I headed towards the Governor’s Drive exit, I noticed that there was a LOT of smoke coming from the culvert to the side of the road. A LOT of smoke. I thought a car had run off the road and was in the ditch, and I was appalled that none of my fellow drivers felt the need to stop.
As I got closer, I was able to see better and realized it was just the grass that was on fire, and a pretty substantial patch of it. So I hung up with Nancy and called 911. It’s the first time in my life that I have ever called 911, so it was kind of exciting.
I don’t know if anyone else called in that fire, or if it was because of me that the fire department was dispatched and went to put it out. I’m just glad I could do my part, you know?
Sickens me that the probable cause of that fire, judging from where it was, was a tossed cigarette. Why can’t people be more responsible? Luckily, it was a pretty contained area — the only significant danger was that of visibility because of the smoke. There were no buildings anywhere nearby (it was the triangle of land between an overpass and an exit ramp and the interstate beneath). But we haven’t had rain in a long time here, so everything is really dry. I don’t understand why anyone smokes… the risks FAR outweigh the benefits, from where I’m sitting.