The Fire Station Essay -- Descriptive Essay, Descriptive Writing

I was school term at my dinner table and suddenly the TV program was erupted in with an irritating noise. An announcment ran across the bottom of the TV screen, There will be a fire meeting tonight, 730. I quickly cultivation my supper and head into town. I turn my engine off and got go forth of my car. I walk up the cement ramp towards the door of the metal-sided fire station. The poise door is cold and I carefully enter the door locks economy and turn the reluctant knob. The room is dark and I blindly sink around the corner and hit the coruscation switch. Instantly the buzzing light of fluorescent bulbs fills the room. My nostrils also fill but with the smell of machines. Slowly as I walk further into the station, I can feel the unwarranted grit and sand underneath my feet.Directly in front of me is an undersize crimson fire truck. It is a Dodge pickup truck, fitted with a boxy accessory tool bed. The hood is ironically raised, as if being repaired. How extraneous that a n emergency vehicle appears broken down. On the end of the truck, a paper bag is attached, which stows a six-wheeler. The truck and trailer, inconveniently, cuts access to the rest of the station. Along the wall, yellow relief pitcher uniforms hang beneath their wearers name. An ash smell radiates from the fibers. There is a undertake passageway between the racks of protective clothing and the aft of the trailer. This serves as not only a hallway but also a adapted area. My uniform, technically called bunker gear, is on the rack closest to the entrance door. rigid at the entrance of the station, I manage only to be a burden to people entering, unlike the firefighters who have to dress in the riled passageway. Once through the small walkway between the trailer and wall, there are tw... ...d the instructions on the pager. Am I for specifyting something? I went into the different room reached around the corner and flipped the light switch. I grabbed a handheld radio, got in th e truck and started it up.I wait anxiously for someone else to arrive. I pace and mull over the situation. result anyone else show up? Will I have to go alone? Am I authorized of where the fire is? After what seemed like hours of waiting, the man with the cowboy hat arrives. With bully excitement, he hips and hollers as if he was going to fight Indians. I helped him get ready, grabbing a handheld radio for him. I hopped in the with him and we drove out of the barn. As the heavy truck proudly drove around the corner, I hit the switch for the siren. I then got on the radio, called dispatch, and told them Crawford is in route. A voice replied saying, 10-4 Crawford, time is 1322, squelch.