Ding! The small, black puck zings past everybody and deflects off the iron post, rolling to the corner. All of a sudden, a high-pitch ringing noise as loud as the school bell sounds off. It feels as if time stood still for ten very long seconds. In my head I said, “What is that annoying noise?” Since I got up so early on this summer day, my eyelids need toothpicks to help keep them open. I cannot associate this sound with anything familiar to me due to my lack of sleep and sluggish mind.

Suddenly, like a flash of lighting the answer hit me! “Fire! Get off the ice! Crawl up the stairs! Get Outside!” shouts my coach. Panicking, I quickly grab for the handle to open the heavy bolted bench door. I tell myself, “Step one I have to get outside.” As I skate across the ice towards the exit sign, my legs move faster than the wheels in a NASCAR race. A narrow pathway clears to the door and I get a glimpse of the commotion in the lobby. I cannot believe my eyes!

I watch people run around frantically and hockey players in their underwear head up the stairs leading outside. The deafening screech of the fire alarm makes it hard to hear parent’s yells of, “Where’s my child?” Remembering to take care of my expensive skates, I crawl up the concrete stairs. Making my way up the stairs, I begin to feel the throbbing pain in my fingers from being stepped on. When I reach the top of the stairs, somebody’s leg hits me in the back. I topple over on the ground and just manage to get back crawling. Finally, I reach the front door and get outside before scooting to the corner where no one can trample me. Yet, I continually ask myself, “Where was the fire? Where was the fire?”

I thought, “Step one accomplished. Now I have to take my skates off so I can walk around and find my parents.” Managing to slip my skates off, I see my parents run toward me to check if I am okay. I told them, “I am fine.” Next, we share stories of how we managed to get out of the building safely. I then notice our hockey team gathering in front of the fire truck for a photo. I wonder, once again, “Where was the fire?” After we pose for what seems to be a hundred photos, I begin walking over to my dad to see the picture he just took. “It looks like one for the scrapbook.” I said to him. Approximately fifteen minutes pass, the firemen then come out of the arena and tell us that the fire alarm just malfunctioned!

That day, when I was nine years old, is one I will remember for the rest of my life. Today, everybody on my team thinks the whole event was hilarious. Thankfully, no one got hurt and the game resumed in about a half an hour later. Our team did win the game, but no one cared about that. And from that day forward, everybody on our team called that ice arena, “The Fire Alarm Rink” and it was our inside joke. Also, my dad still has the fire truck team photo on his old phone and I love looking at it every so often!