Stop Drop and Roll

Photo by the extraordinary Carrie Thomas

I must have been on fire for a while before i realized what was happening. First of all, when you catch on fire all logic goes out the window. Somewhere in the back of my head was a hippie kindergarten teacher yelling Stop drop and roll. Instead, I casually placed my drink on the table and turned back to look at the flames. It was like it was happening to someone else.

People began beating at my jacket to try and stop the fire. A girl actually yelled "Stop, Drop and roll." I squatted on the floor and threw my jacket off. people began stomping on it to put out the last of the flames. My first thought was that I hoped they weren't stomping on my ipod. I picked up my jacket and stared at the holes and the charred bits of cordaroy, less concerned about my own life or well being than i was with the amount of money that I had spent on the jacket. My mother always used to say that we just can't have nice things. As usual, she was right.

The host of the party came over as I was surveying the wreckage, not to make sure I was ok, but rather to make it clear that he would not be reimbursing me for the damage to my jacket. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but instead smiled and said. "Oh, I know. Don't worry about it."

My brush with fire became an anecdote that propelled the momentum for the rest of the party. By the way, for those of you who decided to use every form of the word flame...flaming...flamer....Yes, I appreciate your creativity. You are so cleavor, I can barely contain myself. Bruce Springstein's "I'm on fire" started playing on repeat in my head.

I was unable to stop drop and roll my way to silence on that one.