It's been a three-alarm morning -- literally.
I got into work at 7 am and did all my normal duties, except I forgot to go down to the kitchen and open the door to let some air in. At about 8:30, as I was checking people out, the lights started flashing and the fire alarm started wailing -- that's right, someone burnt their pancakes and the fire alarm went off because I forgot to open the door. STUPID STEPHANIE!
The next 10 minutes were filled with madcap fun, as I ran around like a crazy chicken, trying to figure out how to silence the alarm, open the door, tell people that we weren't burning alive, and cancel the fire trucks. Too late, because three firetrucks showed up, with a bunch of heavily-equipped (and annoyed) firemen, who had to tromp into the hostel and check the place out for remaining fire hazards. I was mortified, obviamente.
The whole joint still sort of smells like burnt 'cakes, and all the kids who ran outside in their underwear/pjs/sheets when the alarm went off have been giving me dirty looks as they slink back into the hostel after briefly fearing for their lives. My bad, guys.