Thursday, 26 May 2011
I am a huge lover of uniforms. But of all the hot uniformed guys in the world – my all-time favorite group is firemen. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, I will stop in my tracks and do the "Jen Pose" as my friends like to call it. The infamous hands on my hips, lean to the right, left knee bent, butt out position. All it takes is one detection of that fire-truck siren and I scan the street, smile perfectly wide, hands, feet, and hips positioned, eyes wild in anticipation, and search. I'm like a tigress searching for her prey.
The second I spot the truck I completely pivot my body, and aim myself to be in its direct view. (Because, when they're heading toward a fire, I'm sure they're secretly looking for me.) Regardless, I continue to pivot until the firemen have driven down the entire block. Whenever they wave at me, and I squeal in girlish excitement, my friends kill my joy by saying, "Of course they waved at you! They think you're a mental patient!" To which I like to add, "Adorable mental patient?" And they roll their eyes and continue the conversation we were having before I went totally fire-crazy.
When I see them at the 18th Avenue Feast in Brooklyn, where I live, or at a block party, I go insane. I usually get all giddy and say something along the lines of, "My friend really loves firemen so can she take a picture of me with you guys?" It usually gets me a laugh and a slightly-less-awkward picture.
There was this one time when I was dancing with a cute guy in a bar when I was upstate, in Hunter Mountain. "So, what do you do?" he asked me, mid-song. "I'm still in college," I replied. "How 'bout you?" "I'm a fireman in Queens," he said back, casually as can be. I stopped dancing then and there, and stared up at him. "A fireman? Yeah, right. I wanna see some proof. Show me your fire badge!" I answered back, defiantly. "Okay," he said with a smile, like this wasn't his first time being questioned about this particular topic. "Here you go, proof." I took one look at his badge, threw my arms around him, and kissed him. I was dancing with an FDNY fireman that whole time and didn't know?! It was all I could do to avoid passing out.
I'll never forget the time I was at L&B Pizzeria (a famous pizzeria in Brooklyn) and a fire-truck parked right out front. (My dream come true – food + firemen! Ahh!)
I didn't know what to do. Should I do my pose? They weren't driving by – they were walking toward me for God's sake. Standing there like a star-struck fool, I looked at my best friend Kerry and yelled out the only thing I could think of: "LIGHT ME ON FIRE!!!" and closed my eyes with my hands lifted out toward her.
When I opened my eyes a couple of seconds later, she was just standing there, looking at me, mouth hanging open, and said, "Jen, you have your crazy eyes going on! You really meant that, I could tell!" Yes, I freaked her out and, yes, I meant it. Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
She never did light me on fire, so I smiled and said to the firemen behind me, "Nice day to eat outside, huh?" That worked just as well, and I totally saved the pain.Do you love firemen? What do you do when you see a fireman?