It was 4:30 in the morning at the Clift Hotel in San Francisco when the alarm went off.
It woke me up from a deep sleep, and at first I was completely bewildered. I thought it was the clock radio alarm in my room, and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to shut the fucker off. I was pressing buttons, looking for a volume control… but the fucking thing wouldn’t stop it’s screeching.
I turned on the light, and as my eyes were trying to adjust enough to read the controls on the clock a voice came over the loudspeaker:
“Attention, there has been a fire reported in the building. Please evacuate immediately.”
I thought at first it was some sort of a recording, but then I realized that it was just a live woman reading it in a mechanical voice. I realized this when she kept the mic keyed open in between announcements, and I heard a much less calm and robotic man’s voice behind her saying, “We’ve got to get these people out of the building!”
The whole crazy picture was starting to come together.
The hotel is on fire, and I’m on the 15th floor. FUCK.
I threw on my clothes, stepped out into the hallway, and was prepared to make a mad sprint down the stairs, but I encountered a river of sleepy travelers funneling into the single file stairwell.
FUCK.
The people were nervous and more than a little out of it, and the line going down the stairs was moving maddeningly slow.
It was one of those stairwells where you could see straight down from the top floor all the way to the bottom, and if you were so inclined you could really freak yourself out by leaning over the railing and thinking about how far a fall it was.
I looked down the well as the line slowly shuffled down the stairs, and at each floor more people were jamming into the herd. There was smoke obscuring the view of the bottom, and as we slowly creeped down this retarded single file pathway to safety I kept my eyes peeled onto that smoke as we went down, holding at bay all thoughts of drastic measures until I saw flames.
People were moving so fucking slowly. It was a very nerve racking and helpless feeling. My humanity and my chimp DNA were having a tense conversation in my head. The humanity side was looking at all these people that were having a hard time walking; old people, obese people, the chronically timid that wilt under any sort of ordinary, every day stress, never mind being a part of a slow chain of hundreds of people making their way down a single file staircase into a hotel fire.
People were freaking out, and my humanity was feeling for them. It must be a terrible feeling to not only be afraid, but to feel like you’re slowing down hundreds of able bodied people from getting to safety in time. My chimp side, however, was ready to climb over their shoulders and run on the top of their heads all the way to the bottom.
The chimp in my head reported ready and able, “Just say the word, boss. We’re ready to take over at the first sign of the flames.” The chemical smell of fire extinguishers filled the air. People were covering their mouths with their robes and t shirts. I could hear humanity turn to the chimp, not quite dismissing him anymore, “Hang on, lets just see how this plays out.”
Some people were really freaking out and not handling it well.
It took at least 2 minutes to get from the 15th floor to the 12th floor, and it seemed like it was slowing down. The announcement got more specific:
“A fire has been reported on the second floor. Please evacuate the hotel immediately.” 10 more floors until the fire, and we’re fucking crawling. FUCK.
One guy stopped.
He just stopped walking, and slack jawed with fear turned around to face his wife, “What is happening? What’s going on?”
It was at that point that humanity and the chimp started to sound rather indistinguishable in my head – “Move, you fuck.” “Just let me yell at him, I won’t touch him…” He stopped in his tracks only for two or three seconds, but the urge to murder him was extreme and immediate. He stuttered backwards a few tiny steps, feeling the will of the crowd, and his wife turned him around and pointed him down the stairs.
“I don’t know, just keep walking.” She said.
He turned over his shoulder to look at her like he might argue with her, and decided to just keep walking.
I focused on him intently as he re-merged with the crowd, and as I studied his dopey shuffle I imagined reaching through his asshole, pulling out his guts and his skeletal system and wearing his skin like a fire suit to run through the flames. This fantasy distracted me for the next 30 seconds that it took to make it half a flight lower. Maybe it’s going to be OK. Hopefully we’ll make it out. Keep it together.
The painfully slow march down to safety continued. It was around the 10th floor where the worry really cranked up a notch.
It was taking fucking forever to get down, and if I look down and see that we’re walking down into the fire, what the fuck am I going to do? Do I keep walking and hope to get through it without getting burned? Do I run back upstairs and hope they can get the fire out before it reaches the upper floors? Just the thought of that was fucking terrifying. What if the fire was out of control?
As we slowly got down to the bottom I was relieved to see how calm the hotel staff was. That was comforting. They were guiding people outside, and as I was stepping out onto the street, one guy who worked there informed me that some drunken douche bags on the second floor were horsing around and one of them started blowing off the fire extinguishers. There was no actual fire.
Relieved, I got outside and walked across the street to find my friends. We were all a little shook up, and as we stood out there on the street lined up on the sidewalk with hundreds of other disposed travelers, lit up by the flashing lights of the fire trucks, it really struck me how random things can be sometimes.
We were lucky as fuck, but it could have just as easily been a real fire. Our reality had been severely jostled.
There was a sleazy little rub and tug massage parlor on the side street across from the hotel and one of their “masseuses” stepped out for a cigarette and to take a peek at all the commotion. She was wearing a short skirt, and had some disaster of a tattoo on her fat tits that you could see spilling out over the top of her sports bra. She looked over and made eye contact with me, and as she took a drag off her cigarette I imagined the smell of a thousand cocks on her hand mixing with the fumes of the Newport she was smoking, and I thought to myself, “That might be the saddest smell in the whole world.”
I suggested that we all go in for hand jobs – my treat – to try to relax us after our ordeal. We joked about the sweet pleasure of being handjob number 1001 for the day, then we all agreed that probably none of us would even be able to get it up. As fucked up as the night had been so far, it would be far worse if it ended with my limp dick being tugged on impatiently by a stinky runaway. I went back up to my hotel room an hour or so later, feeling humbled and thankful.
Redban wrote about it on his twitter, but to me it just felt a little too personal.
I felt the exact same as Joe.. I almost lost it. The woman in front of me was screaming and crying the whole time, and then she fell and hit her head hard on a stair. In front of her, was an old lady who could barely walk. The worse for me was going towards this smoke that we later found out was fire extinguisher smoke. I was thinking I didnt want to pass out from the smoke, so I started holding my breath the last 6 flights of stairs.. so with anxiety and panic, I held my breath which made me feel even more dizzy. I didnt see anyone from the hotel staff to comfort me, I must have been in a different stairway. The one I was in was so small the last few flights of stairs that it was shoulder to shoulder wall.
I really thought I was going to die.
But I learned some lessons, always request the lowest floor available, and always check the map on the back of the hotel door for the best exit.
Those are some really worthless announcements that were over the PA speaker, making people panic, when they aren’t even sure what’s going on. Everyone just assumed there was a fire? Most likely it must have been very hard to tell what was going on… but still. It’s a good lesson for teaching people to think before they act, even in the most dangerous of situations. I mean, someone had to have told someone deliberately that there was a fire. When it comes to a situation like this, it’s the fault of any initial persons involved regarding how information is transferred. People need to learn how to distinguish between different components of reality. Not trying to be mean to humanity, but I’m just trying to channel the ultimate truth that is yearning to speak out through any being’s voice!
Wow. That’s pretty serious. I have never experienced having to run because something was on fire, fortunately. But I am glad it wasn’t a real fire. I can’t even imagine anything like this. A hotel being on fire or even now in California, all those people scared shit-less because their house might be leveled because of it. I can understand the whole chimp deal though. Isn’t that just what everyone in the ultimate situation would turn to? Maybe not everyone, a few would choose to help 20 others and take their own life in the process perhaps, but I am almost positive I would turn into a gorilla and stomp anything in my path to get to safety, as cruel as it sounds.
Anyway, I am glad you were still able to think about sex after all that. I am relieved.
I like the way you write. I was right there with you and I was getting uptight about the slow pace and the worry about the fire. Nice work.
“I focused on him intently as he re-merged with the crowd, and as I studied his dopey shuffle I imagined reaching through his asshole, pulling out his guts and his skeletal system and wearing his skin like a fire suit to run through the flames.”
Holy shit that had me laughing!
As much as I love grandma , I think in the event of fire it should be legal to use ” Darwinian rules” . I truly feel for the less mobile people and they would be sadly missed.If I have to use the guy in the walker as a meat slide to get my ass to safety…well it shouldn’t be held against me. But kudos for keeping the monkey at bay…you sir are a better man than I !
Incredibly written account of feeling your life pass before you…would love to hear more about other close encounters you’ve had!
I have a letter to deliver to Joe and I wasn’t sure where to put it… I thought that if it was placed in the forums it would get lost amongst the mass of threads, so here it is. Happy reading Joe. P.S. I suppose I will post it on the forum also to see the reaction of the masses.
Dear Joe Rogan,
I suppose you expect certain things from a correspondence of this nature, and I hope to disappoint you. I have chosen to write this letter out of my honesty of what a fan I am of your work. I regard you as someone who actually knows what the hell they are talking about when it comes to discussions of social behavior or political issues of today, as well as many other topics I have heard you speak on. I think that most fans of a specific celebrity enjoy one or two aspects of what that person does, but in my case I respect pretty much every angle of your work. I was first exposed to you and your brand of comedy on a little show called News Radio, and I have since then fell in love with your wit and humor. From your legal point of view on marijuana to the endless bashing of Mencia for his bullshit on stage, I respect all the facets of entertainment that you choose to be a part of.
Your stand-up is of a genre I had never seen before. I recently saw you in stand-up for the first time about two years ago and enjoyed every second of it. I remember the rant that you gave at the beginning of Joe Rogan: Live and I found it to be more profound than what is said by most of the social heroes of our day. Human beings try to justify their actions in every way possible, and rationalize the use of destruction for the greater good. Pollution and consumption are defended as necessary. The cancerous state that humans have put the earth in is either ignored, or addressed in such a laughable attempt at repair that I wonder why they even try at all. I believe that you had it right in explaining how humans are probably here to consume and destroy, so we might as well accept it and move on. The fact that entertainers are the ones spreading social awareness shows the lack of concern on the part of current day leaders, and is one more reason why I regard and admire the work that you do, as well as the awareness that you create.
I also revere your extensive knowledge of the sport of MMA. I think that your understanding of the sport and the experience that you have in the world of MMA creates excitement from the fans. I believe that you make fans want to know more about the UFC, and MMA in general. When viewers hear the technical terms that you use while commentating a fight it fascinates them to know that the sport is so complex, and I believe that it drives them to learn more about it. Also, as many fans of the UFC know, you train and fight in the sport. I am unaware of whether or not you do it professionally. I have yet to see any videos of matches you may have been in, and I assume this is because they are none, but I have seen YouTube clips of you training and practicing. This reinforces why I think so highly of you and your opinion of the sport, and it also illustrate the merit of what you know about the sport as a whole, not just one aspect. However, this is one of the many subjects which I was impressed to discover you knew so much about.
Another of those subjects is the sport of boxing and its place in today’s world of athletic competition. In comparison to what the UFC is doing for the fighting market it seems that boxing is a dying sport. You made claims to this, and backed it up with solid evidence, to the dismay and rejection of one Lou DiBella. I remember watching the interview with you and DiBella discussing the differences of boxing vs. UFC and why the market has changed so much. When DiBella accused you of “not being a boxing fan” you commenced to correct his asinine comment and explain that he had no idea what the hell he was talking about. I thought it foolish that he made such a ridiculous claim considering it is a well known fact that you at one time trained under Joe Lake. I couldn’t help but laugh my when you tore into him and made him look dumber than he had already passed himself off to be, proving that people should do their homework before talking shit about what someone does or doesn’t know.
I would now like to take the time to address a topic that I know is close to your heart: Carlos Mencia. I must admit that I was once a fan to this illusion of a comedian and I found his performances fairly entertaining. Through time I discovered that he was accused of stealing material from other comedians, yet I continued to defend the facsimile. I then learned of accusation being brought forward by other comedians, such as George Lopez and yourself, and the evidence was too obvious to ignore any longer.
I am not a student of comedy, but I am a lover of it. I went back and listened to my old Pryor 78’s of Bicentennial Nigger and Here and Now, and I began to see what everyone was talking about in reference to him copying material. Furthermore, I never cared much for George Lopez’s stand-up, although I think his sitcom is very funny, but I listened to some of his performances and heard a lot of what Mencia passed off as his own, original material. Further still, Cosby is not a big name in my comedy book, but I do know of his notorious stand-up pieces that changed the comedic world as we knew it, creating room in comedy for entertainers such as Eddie Murphy, Martin Lawrence, and Dave Chappell. For someone to have the audacity to claim portions of Cosby’s work as their own, when it is so well known as “classic comedy” in the world of humor, shows guts and greed rare to this world.
Needless to say, I no longer watch or read anything having to do with Carlos Mencia unless the lead-in gives me some indication that there is trouble in his paradise. I would also like to point out that I love the way you openly bust his balls about it. One thing that I wondered about was why he was stupid enough to go on the Joe Show and argue with you over whether or not he is a thief. Did he think that he could convince you that he wasn’t and that you would concede? Do you foresee giving him more shit for it in the future? If so, let me know when and where so I can get in on the fun.
Anyway, I hope you are able to find this letter in the mass of emails, blogs and correspondence that I am sure you read every day. I just wanted to take the time and let you know that there are people out in the world who hear what you saying and wonder why no else is repeating it.
Daniel Musgrove
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