Last Sunday, I planned to meet E.S. for lunch during the gay pride march. Uncharacteristically, I was on time; even more uncharacteristically, he was late. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, “but I was watching the parade and the gay policemen and firemen came by, so I couldn’t leave.”
I’ve known for some time that E.S. is a sucker for a man in uniform, but I didn’t know that the effect was so strong as to overcome his almost pathological compulsion to be on time.
This started me thinking. “I know E.S. is really into me and thinks I’m really sexy,” I thought. “But if I become a fireman, then he’ll think I’m even sexier than he already does.” I started fantasizing about life as a fireman, going out and saving lives and then coming home all dirty and sweaty and having E.S. massage my sore muscles and strip off my fireman’s uniform and–well, you get the idea. Plus, becoming a fireman would allow me to do something with my life that helped people in a very real and concrete way–I mean, writing pretty music is all well and good, but sometimes the benefits to humanity are a little hard to make out.
In any case, the more I thought about it, the more excited I got. Finally, yesterday, I went to the New York Fire Department web site and started investigating.
And was stopped cold by the realization that I am too old to become a fireman. To be eligible to take the open-competitive Firefighters Examination, you have to be under 29 years old; the next exam is in October of 2006, at which point I will be 33.
Devastated, I called E.S. and told him all about the destruction of my dream. He consoled me with the information that, if I’m too old to become a fireman, it also means I’m too old to develop schizophrenia.
I told him the voices said he was wrong.
But you’re definitely not too old to rent a fireman costume.
I should have known someone would beat me to the punch and suggest that one is never too old to indulge in a little bit of costume drama. And in this case, I think you can be relatively assured of how the plot will play out.
and you could even rent a straitjacket to go with it…
Come on Faustus! We know that you are sexy enough for ES. Damn, ES is lucky to have you. Never bother to be a fireman. Be yourself!
Ooooh. They were near my group when we were lining up before the march started, and there was the swooniest, most gorgeous butch firefighter I couldn’t take my eyes off of. Smokin’, as it were.
I knew moral clarity was seductive, but I didn’t realize it came with age limits.
The Germans have a word for it ‘torschlossenpanik’ – door closing panic – when you realise that you are now too old for something. It becomes endemic.
British firemen are universally dogs; French pompiers on the other hand….
Yes…but at 33, you are also old enough to purchase a fireman’s outfit, and still live that fantasy out.
The NYPD exam is an option…
Ah, the awkward age: Too old to be Miss America, too young to be President. You have my sympathies.
Someone beat me to the punch. I was going to suggest the NYPD, as they always seem desperate for recruits. But somehow the idea of Faustus with a gun does not evoke peace of mind.
How about… a Nurse? I mean, the Nurse Uniform is kinda cute….
firemen … [drool] …
LOL brilliant! god you really made my day sweetie!