People I Know and Carbon Monoxide

I was shopping at a Williams-Sonoma the other day, inquiring about the cost of a miniature carbon dioxide tank for my new at-home water carbonating machine. Upon asking the young girl working there if they had any tanks to purchase, the employee could only stand there and stare back at me with glazed eyes. Finally she mustered out a response:

".... I'm sorry, what?"

Realizing I sometimes talk too quickly for the average person to understand, I repeated my question for her, being sure to speak clearly this time.

"Do you guys sell CO2 tanks for your Home Water Carbonation machine?"

Again she turned still.

"..... I'm sorry, CEE-OH..."

"Carbon Dioxide."

"Is that the machine that's always beeping in my apartment?"

I politely told her that's not what I was referring to, but didn't extend the conversation any further to mention that what is 'always beeping' in her apartment is likely her carbon monoxide detector, and that it shouldn't be beeping at all. Before getting the opportunity to tell her that she should really get that situation checked out, I was referred to the next employee for an answer to my query. Although it was a shame that I couldn't enlighten the young saleslady about the threats of carbon monoxide, I figured my advice would have just gone over her head. And besides, learning from experience might be the best way to help her out. Later on after arriving at home, still laughing quietly in disbelief from the whole conversation that had just transpired, I reflected upon my own personal experience with my carbon monoxide detector.


A few months ago, I had 4 friends staying the night at my place. They were participating in an indoor soccer tournament over the weekend and to save on hotel expenses, decided to stay in my small apartment downtown. After a successful first day, the team was onto the semi-finals on Sunday. Serious soccer players as they are, I figured they'd want to have a good nights rest for the playoffs the following day. Instead I was treated to an entire nights worth of poker and Nintendo Wii, as the 4 battled out in multiple tournaments where the ultimate victor would win the pull-out couch for sleeping as his reward.

After the only house guest in his 30's (and therefore aptly nicknamed the "Broken Mule") defied the odds in winning the couch, the rest of us finally got to bed in the early hours of the morning. That night, around 4am, I heard a piercing sound.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP

"Fire Alarm!" was my first instinct in this groggy state, but this beeping sound was different. Much different.
I walked over to the kitchen, the source of the noise, and looked at the wall. My carbon monoxide detector was beeping and flashing green. I briefly froze. I had no idea what to do.

I quickly opened up all the doors and windows, reasoning this might help prevent my apartment from being quickly consumed in carbon monoxide and earn me some time to figure out what to do and how to get help. But first! I have to get all my friends up and out of the apartment.

"Hey guys... I don't want to freak you guys out," I said in my calmest of voices, trying to disguise my unpreparedness, "but you may want to get out of the apartment. My carbon monoxide detector is going off and it's never done that before."

"I don't smell anything," reasoned one of my lesser intelligent friends, unmoving from his spot up against the wall.

"Carbon monoxide is odorless, dummy. And it can kill you. Now get up! We should be getting out of here!"

"Just wave a towel in front of the detector. That'll stop it," reasoned my other equally unintelligent friend nicknamed Cuz; short-form for Cousin despite our different racial, religious, and ancestral backgrounds.

"..it doesn't really work that way," I said quietly, wondering how my friends could be so dumb.

I looked down at my friend TK lying perfectly in the middle of my apartment, face down on the floor, with only a small pillow and an afghan my mom knit years ago to keep him comfortable. I knew if anyone was a long shot to get up and out of here, it'd be him: a lazy man in his own right with a self-appointed nickname of TK ironically short for Too Kwik.

"I'll just breath less. I'll last longer," he said with his mouth muffled in the pillow.

Idiots.

Even Broken Mule wasn't budging, clearly using his veteran experience in knowing that any movement would cost him the highly coveted 'pull-out bed with a bar that sticks out slightly all the way down the spine of your back.' Anything was better than the floor, he must have reasoned.

In the interest of saving my own life from carbon monoxide poisoning, I went outside onto my tiny back deck and made a few phone calls. The first was to my superintendent. It was early, but this was an emergency.

"Hi Steve. Listen. Sorry to disturb you, but my carbon monoxide detector is going off and I don't know what to do."

"Sorry, but I'm not your superintendent anymore."

"Wait! What?"

"The company sold the building yesterday and they put a new property services company in charge. You have to call them to figure out who your new superintendent is."

"... What?" I was momentarily stunned, but quickly moved the conversation forward. "Okay.. what's their number?"

"You should be getting that information in the mail in the next few days."

"Steve! My carbon monoxide detector is going off and I got people over. So you're not my superintendent anymore, but do you at least know the phone number of the gas company? Give something here. I need some help."

"You want my advice?" Steve asked calmly.

"Yes."

"Unplug your CO detector."

I hung up.
I was surrounded by idiots.

Next, I decided to call my friend who lives just a block away. Surely she would be of some help.

"Hey, it's me. Listen, my CO detector is going off and I've got 4 friends over. I need you to do my two favours. One: Do you have the phone number for the gas company on hand somewhere? And Two: Could you come over here real quick with your CO detector to see if mine is faulty or something?"

She agreed, gave the phone number and was on her way. The ball was now rolling, but would it be too late? I popped my head back inside.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. The sound continued, likely waking up all the neighbours.

"You all still alive? Give me a clap if you're still alive."

CLAP-CLAP-CLAP-....-.....-CLAP.

"You guys are jerks."

Back outside, I called the gas company and was told they'd be sending over an inspector ASAP. A few minutes later, my friend arrived to my potential gas chamber filled with 4 volunteer victims. We plugged in her CO detector and anxiously awaited a response from the machine.

Silence.

No beeps. No flashing lights. Nothing. I was so relieved.

I went back into the main room of the apartment to tell the boys that, for the moment, I think everything is okay. And there they were, all lying in the exact same location and position from when I left them before. All except for Cuz, who had since taken over my bed.

"I need some new friends," I reasoned.

The gas inspector arrived not too long afterwards and confirmed what I had been hoping. My apartment was safe and it was the CO detector that was old and faulty. I went straight out to the hardware store and bought a brand new state-of-the-art carbon monoxide detector, equipped with a digital reader. The only problem left now is my new found nervous habit: checking to see what the digital reading is every time I walk into the kitchen.

Still zero.


aa.