At that point in the night there were no other clouds in the sky, and this thing looked just like a giant cigarette. With slight disbelief we concluded with great excitement that the top floor MUST be on fire. It was the only feasible explanation.
Despite being the caring and considerate people we are, it was quickly admitted by all that this was an awesome situation to be in. We had front row seats to an incredible, real-life sound and light show. Drama was unfolding. History was being written. We had a pretty decent camera. No one else would be watching at one o'clock in the morning. We'd be the only people with photographs. We'd make millions, and I'd kick start my career as a photo journalist.
Shit was going down.
The only thing that didn't match up was the lack of chaos in and around the Eureka tower. There were no sirens, no firefighters, no one was jumping out of any windows and there was a distinct absence of overall panic. This was alright. We were willing to put it all down to a current lack of awareness.
Then the clouds came in and covered our view of the Eureka. When the sky cleared again, the view wasn't as convincing as it had originally been. There was no death or destruction anywhere. It had become apparent that the Eureka had never been on fire, and none of the aforementioned scenarios would come to be. The whole situation was quite the disappointment.
James maintains that the firefighters had reached the fire and put it out before any damage was done. That's how convincing it looked.
The photos didn't turn out so great anyway.
*sigh*
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