One a.m. this morning found me tired and irritable. The end of another long day of work. My stomach asked me why I had been ignoring it all day.
“Deadlines. That’s why.” I replied. In desperate need of some sustenance and sleep, I pulled up to the intersection at 5th and Boston, downtown. In the distance I could hear sirens blaring and fast approaching.
A beast of a fire truck flew past me, screeching to a halt on 5th, its lights hyper, painting the city streets red and blue. I looked to see… absolutely nothing. As I started to ponder just how much money must be wasted every year on false alarms, a burst of flames spat out of the third story window in front of me.
I grabbed my camera and ran to the building. It was the historic Tulsa Club! On fire! The firemen moved with coordinated precision. More emergency vehicles rushed the intersection.
Turns out, it was the third fire at this location in a week.
Snapping pictures, watching the Tulsa Fire Fighters do their thing, I couldn’t help but think, “What a beautiful building,” immediately followed by the thought, “What a shame.”