The other day I went downtown for a meeting with some publishing guys, when their fire alarms went off. Everyone was rushing down the stairs of the fire escape. This guy in front of me, however, was more interested in looking up at one of his co-workers on the stairs above him. He waved to her about ten times on the way down. He'd stop to get her attention. Asshole! There is a fire. Get out. Stop, drop and roll your ass!

Once we got to the lower floors, you could smell the smoke. It wasn't overbearing at all. It was sort of like sitting next to a campfire. But if you asked the guy behind me, he was in the middle of a blazing inferno. He called his wife or girlfriend or maybe his mother to alert her to the situation.

"Yeah. There's a fire. It's craaaazy. There's all this smoke. COUGHCOUGHAKLJFHL:DIHFKBIBECIU EABCOUGGHGHGHGCOUUGGGHGHGHGH!!!!"

I've met people with lung cancer, emphysema and whooping cough who coughed less than this guy. He was totally trying to get some action when he got home.

"Hey baby. I almost died today. Let's do it. And when I say 'it', I mean sex!"

Crisis averted. I got back at work this morning. I realized that three hours prior to the incident I deleted some gay chain letter email thing which warned me that if I didn't forward it to ten people, I'd probably get hit by a double decker bus or something like that. I wish i had known earlier, I could just scream out while I was walking down the stairs, "IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I DELETED A CHAIN LETTER! I'M SO SORRY! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!"