La fumée sans feu

I suppose I could have died today. I was participating with my College in a recruiting event specifically geared for honors students and their parents, dressed to the nines, sporting my lovely nametag, making small talk and just selling the University 'til my heart's content. Usually, despite my strong dislike for small talk / party situations, I for some reason excel in these situations. Perhaps because it is rather scripted, and I do not have to make any sort of emotional connection. That could not happen now, even if it was mandatory. I am very closed.

During the "browse session" at the hotel and conference center, where said event took place, I was stationed in one of the meeting rooms along with about ten other representatives from the College, geared up to answer questions about why we did not offer to by the family a boat or send them on a cruise in exchange for their student. It would seem, the way they speak, that this actually happens. Honestly, it is the most bizarre courting ritual I have seen. Nevertheless, we always seem to be able to charm some of the best into a commitment.

At first, our room had the sort of odor gotten from vacuuming up something a little too large or inappropriate (e.g. an electrical cord, a tapestry, a small child, the family dog) - that smell that emanates from the underside of the machine, where once spinning brushes have ground to a halt and caused the motor to squeal in pain and the rubber belt to speed hotly against the still brush cylinder. You know exactly what I'm talking about. We all succomb to vacuum inpropriety at some point. (On a side note, it is especially fun to suck the tassels off of a Persian rug - preferably one not yours.) We successfully played off the smell for about fifteen minutes, chalking it up to burning dust as the heat kicked in for the first time this winter (as if!) or stale faculty farts. "Man, did you smell that one Professor Robbins dropped over there?" I wanted to say. "You might consider a new major... something less poopy."

Just as I had mulled over whether actually saying that would cause a ruckus, I was brought back to the vacuum cleaner odor simile. Dark smoke began to billow out from the ceiling air vents at an amazing rate. The room began to fill with smoke from the top down, and the smell became overwhelming. As the fire alarm sounded, we staff members worked to usher people to the nearest exits in time for the fire engines to pull up in a magnificent show of promptness. I will not digress to talk about the strapping firefighters - use your imagination. The entire scene brought me back to the old "Stop, Drop and Roll" movies we used to watch in grade school. It's true - the smoke really does fill a room in only a few seconds.

Having given up on the opportunity for a free lunch, a colleague and I decided to leave for our offices, just in time to be beckoned back to the building. The ballroom had been vented and was free of smoke, so we sat down to an impressive meal of a mixed greens salad, zesty lasagne, French cut green beans sautéed in butter, soft rolls, and cheesecake for dessert. Bravo, team of chefs! I am sure that all of us will check our smoke detectors before slipping under the covers tonight.

Oh, in case you were wondering, there was an actual fire - on the roof, in the particular heating unit that served our wing of the conference center. Hélas, bad luck follows me!