Exert from my Novel “Firehouse 101” Chapter “A Trip to the Firehouse”:

In 2005, just as I was interviewing to become a Hasbrouck Heights Fire fighter, I published my novel, the second in a New York City Trilogy (that I am still working on), titled “Firehouse 101”. I had been writing the book since January 2002, inspired by my best friend who had survived the Towers that tragic day.

This was the story of Alex Livingston, a Honolulu Hotel executive, who moves from Waikiki to Brooklyn, NY when the Marriott hotel he works at transfers him when business declined at his hotel in Hawaii a year after the attacks.

While living in Brooklyn, Alex befriends Ryan Callahan, a member of the FDNY and a third generation firefighter. Ryan’s survival the day of the attacks still haunt him over a year later and Alex sees a community still reeling from the attacks.

Firehouse 101: available for sale on the following platforms:

IUniverse.com:

https://www.iuniverse.com/BookStore/BookDetails/101408-FIREHOUSE-101

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.ae/Firehouse-101-Justin-Watral/dp/0595367712

Walmart Books:

https://www.walmart.com/ip/FIREHOUSE-101-9780595367719/150132437

If you want to read a section of the novel, you can read it on Google Books:

Google Books:

From the Chapter “Visiting the Firehouse” storyline:

In the novel, Alex goes to Firehouse 101 located just off Boerum Hill, Brooklyn to assist Ryan in cooking a monthly family breakfast that has occurred every month since the attacks to bring families together with the current firefighters families so they do not feel forgotten. This is when Alex, a Hotelier and Culinarian with the Marriott Metrotech, realizes that Ryan can’t cook.

I have posted darker excerpts of the book online but this is one of the funnier parts of my novel. To read the rest of the story to see what happens next, you can buy the book through IUniverse.com, my publisher, Amazon, Walmart, Barnes & Nobel or any other online book company. “Firehouse 101” is a print on demand book and an eBook.

“A Visit to the Firehouse”:

Saturday night Alex went to bed early. He could not believe he had to get up this early to cook with Ryan. Who even heard of a guy that couldn’t cook? An Italian guy at that? This was the twenty first century and people have progressed on. Leslie had told Alex that Ryan’s life was similar to a 50’s sitcom. Was that why Leslie and Ryan broke up? She did not see herself in the 50’s? Or was it the other way around and Ryan could not leave his secure world for the unknown? Some people have a tough time letting go of what they’ve lived their whole life.

            After 9/11, the outside world had finally seen inside the fire fighters world. It had opened people’s eyes. They found it fascinating, like a new stage play. But as Leslie pointed out, fame is fleeting. It was Andy Warhol’s term “15 minutes of fame”. Leslie said the media makes something a hot topic and it stays that way until the next hot topic comes around. Alex turned and went to sleep. That night, he had that dream again about running down the stairs as fast as he could, this time hearing crashing noises above.

            Alex got up at five the next morning and decided to get to the firehouse early. He was groggy, but knew that after working many a breakfast at both Marriott’s and Hiltons, it pays to be early and set up. It was still dark outside as Alex walked down the quiet streets of Boerum Hill. He relished the silence. Alex paused and looked at the tree lined side streets. It really was a beautiful neighborhood, full of character. It was a special neighborhood; he could see why the association worked so hard to protect it.

            The door to the firehouse was open, Alex was glad as he wasn’t sure of how else to get in. One of the guys was downstairs manning the radio. Alex looked out of place with his chef’s whites and checked pants. When business got slow in Hawaii, just like in New York, Alex worked in the kitchen, honing the skills that he had learned at UNLV. The Marriott gave him the uniform to keep just in case.

            “Hi,” Alex said softly to the guy at the radio. “I’m a friend (was he?) of Ryan’s. I’m helping him out this morning with breakfast. Where can I find him?” “Yous helping Ryan?” the guy yawned. He had the thickest Brooklyn accent Alex had ever heard. “He’s upstairs in the kitchen, top of the stairs and turn left,” he said and went back to work. Another firefighter walked down the stairs as Alex went up. He stared at Alex and said, “Are yous catering or somethin’?”  “I’m here to help Ryan out with breakfast,” Alex said. “Thank God, his food tastes like shit,” the guy grumbled as he passed Alex. I love the way New Yorkers phrase things. There is no holding back, Alex said to himself as he finally found the kitchen.

            It was not very impressive. The equipment seemed old but functional. There were two ovens, a stove, and a griddle with enough room to work with on the side. It wasn’t a huge kitchen but it would do.  Alex wondered if it fit all the guys in the house at one time. The building was old. Alex wondered if these walls could talk what would they say? About losses and triumphs of the past? Tales of fires big and small and stories of probies (probationary officers) past? There was a lot of history here. Alex pondered the past. He was so deep in thought that he didn’t see Ryan enter.

            “What? Are you okay?” Ryan asked. “Sorry, I was thinking of something. So what are we doing this morning? What did you want to make?” Alex asked, rubbing his hands together. Ryan told him that there would be more people than expected. “How many?” Alex asked, “Fourteen, fifteen?” “Are you kidding me? Try twenty six!” Ryan said. Alex looked surprised and said, “Twenty six? Jesus Christ, we have to get to work,” Alex said collecting himself. He would kill Ryan later. “Okay, what do we have to do first?” Alex looked at the clock, it was now six. How was he going to pull this off?

            With so many people, everything was going to be served buffet style. Thank God, Alex thought, for the old buffet line. “So what are we making?” Alex asked. “Bacon, eggs, toast, potatoes, French Toast, sausage, muffins, and we have some melons,” Ryan replied. “Okay, so what has been done?” Alex asked. “Nothing,” Ryan said innocently, pointing to several bags of groceries. Alex looked incredulously at the bags and yelled, “Nothing?! I can’t believe it, when does all this have to be done by?” “Between seven thirty and eight,” Ryan replied. “If I weren’t in a rush, I’d kill you now. Let’s get to work,” Alex said, emptying the bags as fast as he could. Alex suggested Ryan peel the potatoes and put them in water so they didn’t brown. He would get the muffins started. Alex asked where the muffin pans were and Ryan pointed to the bags again. Ryan was surprised as he heard Alex mutter a few swear words in Italian that he had picked up from his grandfather. So that’s when the Italian shows, Ryan said to himself.

            As they unloaded the bags, Alex looked Ryan square in the eye and said, “I’ll get you for this.” Ryan peeled the potatoes and put them in the water, while Alex preheated the oven and read the directions on the muffin package. These were easy, two eggs and water and mix. The muffins would only take twenty five minutes. Alex cut the four loaves of bread for the French toast and asked, “Why are there four full loaves with so much other food?” “You’ve never been in a firehouse for breakfast before have you?” Ryan asked, taking his time to peel the potatoes. He was not doing that great a job.

            Alex finished slicing the bread and put it aside. He cracked several eggs in a bowl and mixed it with milk and vanilla. “Ryan, I’ve told you about my pancake breakfasts with my mother’s cousin up in Greenwich. Now where is the cinnamon and nutmeg?” Ryan pointed at a spice rack and said, “Alex, serving people at a pancake breakfast and cooking for a group of fire fighters are two different things.” “Ryan, please,” Alex said stirring the cinnamon mixture with sugar and putting it into the refrigerator to cool and said, “How much can people possibly eat?” “Just wait,” Ryan said with a smile. Alex started to get the bacon ready on sheet pans to put under the broiler, and then realized that the muffins weren’t done yet. He looked at the time, shit it was getting late.

            “Ryan, can you speed it up a bit with those potatoes, it’s getting late.” Alex dropped a pound of butter in a pot for clarified butter for the potatoes and the buzzer finally went off for the muffins. Damn these things come out perfect Alex said to himself. Why do people even bother making them from scratch? Alex threw the bacon in the broiler and set the griddle for the sausage and French toast. He looked at Ryan, who was still peeling potatoes and said to himself, he’s worthless in here. Alex was ready to kick him out of the kitchen.

            Didn’t this guy know the meaning of the words “Mise en place”? (Everything in its place). Alex cut the sausage into patties and put them on the griddle. On the other side of the griddle, he started the French toast. Ryan finally finished peeling the potatoes. “The best thing to do now is cut them in sixths and we’ll make them with the onions you have over there. Then crack the eggs, we can scramble them last,” Alex said as he turned the bacon over, flipped all the sausage and finished the first batch of French toast. Alex stopped for a second and wondered who was in charge here? How come Ryan wasn’t moving faster?

            Ryan finished cracking the eggs and scrambled them with milk as Alex got the bacon out of the oven and drained it in batches. There was some commotion in the other room as the men started to get up. All of sudden a little boy burst into the kitchen and caught Alex off guard. He almost dropped hot bacon on the kid.

            “Uncle Ryan,” the child yelled as he grabbed Ryan’s leg and hugged him. “Alex, this is Patrick Jr.,” Ryan said with a big smile as he reached down and hugged the child. Alex looked at the time and panicked. Crunch time. “Hi Kiddo,” is all Alex could mutter. The sausages were being drained, the bacon was now done and the next batch of French toast was on the griddle. “Patrick is my friend Patrick’s son. He’s four years old,” Ryan explained. Alex stopped in his tracks. This was Patrick’s son!? Patrick had children? Alex looked at the little boy; it was so sad that he left such a charming son behind.

            “Where are you’re sisters?” Ryan asked. Sisters? “They’re outside with everyone else, come with me,” Patrick Jr. said. “Do you mind?” Ryan said and he followed Patrick Jr. out the door, leaving Alex alone in the kitchen. He was lucky that no one went into the kitchen. He grabbed the four platters and ran through each dish one by one.

            He lined the platters with paper for the bacon and the sausage and put them in the warmer, finished the French toast and put the platter in the warmer. He placed the muffins on a platter off to the side. He then took two sheet pans and started the toast. He thought about what Roger had said. Was Ryan using survivor guilt on him?

            Two more children burst into the kitchen and yelled, “We’re hungry! Who are you?” as they gave Alex a strange look. Alex looked back, not knowing how to explain it to two little kids and said, “I’m a cook.” They looked at one another, as if Alex was a Martian. They asked together, “Can we have something to eat?” “No. You’ll ruin your breakfast,” Alex tried to say. “Whahhhhh, we’re hungry!” they screamed. “Okay, okay,” Alex said giving them some muffins and quickly turned over the toast. “Here you go, now make like bananas and split,” Alex said shooing them out of the kitchen. “He’s just like my mom,” one kid said to the other. “Yeah, bossy!” the other said as they ran out the door with their muffins. All Alex could think was that these kids had inherited their parents’ way of speaking. It was funny to hear these accents on seven year olds.

            Ryan came back into the kitchen as Alex turned over the toast one more time in the broiler. “Where have you been? It’s like the attack of the little kids in here,” Alex said pulling the toast out. “I forgot to tell you the wives bring their kids,” Ryan said. “So I found out. I had to bribe two little kids to get them out of the kitchen. They told me that I acted like their mother,” Alex said out of breath.

            “They’re typical kids,” Ryan said. Alex heard a lot of talking in the dining area. “Are the guys up?” Alex asked throwing the potatoes on the grill with some chopped onions and butter. “Yeah, some of the guys are greeting their wives that showed up for breakfast,” Ryan said as he started to cut up the five melons.  Alex flipped the potatoes. “Do you have a brush?” Alex asked. “For what?” Ryan wanted to know. “The toast! Honestly Ryan, I don’t get you. You plan all this out and you act like you don’t know what to do. How did you ever do this in the past? Magic?” Alex said flustered. Ryan looked down at the floor and said, “I always had Patrick with me and he knew what to do.” Alex immediately went quiet.

            He looked at Ryan for a second like he was ready to cry. “I’m sorry. I just want this to come out right,” Alex said. Ryan controlled himself and said, “I’m sorry for leaving you in the kitchen.” He saw the brush they used to make barbecued chicken and handed it to Alex, who at this point was suffering from a massive guilt complex.

            “Thanks,” Alex said taking the melted butter and brushing it on the toast, cutting it and putting it on another platter. Ryan finished cutting all the melon cut and put it on another platter. “Oh, I forgot to make the cawfee,” Ryan said to Alex who then burst out laughing. “What’s so funny?” Ryan asked. “The way you said it “Cawfee”, I want some cawfee and cake, like a true New YAWKA,” Alex said shaking his head (no matter how Alex tried, he just liked to make fun of Ryan). Ryan was fed up with Alex’s criticism of the way he talked and walked up to him and said in a serious tone, “Alex, I would cut the crap with this accent stuff. All the guys in the house talk like this. This is Brooklyn. No one speaks your perfect lockjaw ‘Connecticut English’. Did you know you sound funny to us?” “Hey, you want me to leave?” Alex said, “I don’t seriously need this crap on my day off.” Alex was exhausted and still had a batch of potatoes and the eggs to finish and Ryan was no help with any of it!

            “I’m sorry, but watch it,” Ryan said, “some of the guys won’t appreciate it.” Alex put this into perspective. The idea of twenty guys with easy access to fire axes shut him up. “I’ll keep quiet,” Alex said turning the last batch of potatoes as Ryan arranged the melon on the platter. They were in the home stretch when two guys in jeans and ‘Firehouse 101” tee shirts walked into the kitchen. “Ryan, when the hell are we going to eat? We’re starved!” they yelled. They stopped in their tracks and looked at Alex.

            They looked at Ryan and said, “Who the hell is this? You had to hire a cook to help you?” Alex held back from cracking up again and just smiled. “This is Alex; he works over at the Marriott…”Ryan started to say. “How did he get here?” one of the guys said. “We live in the same building and Ryan asked me for help,” Alex said, “we’ll have everything out in five minutes. I promise,” Alex said professionally. “Okay, but this better be good,” the other guy said. As they headed through the doors, they yelled in the room, “Hey everyone, Ryan’s got a chef in here!” Alex looked at Ryan and said, “I hate you”.

            The only thing left were the scrambled eggs. Alex said, “I’ll finish the eggs. Why don’t you get all the rest of the stuff out so it does not get cold and those kids don’t come back in here,” Alex said as Casey and two new probies came into the kitchen. “Who’s the cook?” a probie said as he saw Alex putting the rest of the rest of the potatoes on the platter. “What’s he doing back here?” Casey asked pointing his finger at Alex, “don’t you have a home to go to?” He and the guys laughed. Alex had enough and said, “Look why don’t you shut up and be helpful. These platters aren’t going to walk out on their own, so get them out.” He had put up enough with this shit. “Fine, you don’t have to yell at us,” one of the probies said. Alex handed each of them a towel and a platter and said that the platters were hot. They let the room grumbling. “Ryan, could you take the French Toast out. I don’t want to over cook it,” he said as he powered sugared it, “it’s too bad we have no orchids. They look great on platters.” “Huh?” Ryan questioned.

            “In Hawaii, we put orchids on out platters,” Alex said, “it makes a nice effect on the presentation.” “You are truly weird,” Ryan said as he took the French toast and bacon out. Alex cleaned the griddle and started the eggs. Thank God they are quick. Alex looked at the time. It was 8:10 am. They were just a little behind schedule. Alex put the eggs on the platter, picked up the platter of potatoes and walked out the door. He was not expecting a crowd watching him.

            Alex walked into the dining area. There were about thirty people sitting around laughing. They took one look at him and everyone went silent. Alex stood there with the platters in hand when one of the little kids said, “That’s the guy who gave us the muffin. See, he does exist, Mommy!” Alex said “Hi, here are the eggs, Ryan. I’ll have the toast out in a minute,” and darted back into the kitchen. God, that was embarrassing. They looked at him like he was from Mars.

            As he finished the last platter, Ryan came back into the kitchen. “You made a splash,” Ryan said. “Shut up and take this platter out,” Alex said tired. “Are you coming in to eat?” Ryan asked. “I’m fine. I had a piece of French toast. I can’t eat this much this early in the morning. You go with your guests and the rest of the guys and I’ll clean up,” Alex said. “You sure?” Ryan asked. “I’m fine, unless we need more food,” Alex kidded. “We’ll be okay for right now. I’ll keep you posted,” Ryan said as he went back into the dining area. ‘I’ll keep you posted?’ Alex thought to himself as he started to clean up.

            As Ryan exited, Captain Giovanni entered the kitchen. Alex looked up and thought to himself, ‘oh this just keeps getting better’. “Hi Carmen,” Alex said innocently as he was wiping the table down. “Alex, what are you doing here? Can’t get enough of the firehouse? I told you, you can get sucked in,” Carmen kidded. “Carmen, Ryan asked me to help him with the breakfast,” Alex started to explain, “I hope I’m not crossing any boundaries.” Alex was still afraid he was trespassing. “Don’t worry about it, Alex. It’s just funny to see you in our kitchen,” Carmen said looking over the mess that Alex was cleaning up. “You are staying to clean up, right?” Carmen asked. “Will all be done soon,” Alex said getting back to work.

            As Alex washed the sheet pans, dried the utensils and neatly stacked everything, he couldn’t believe the looks he got from the people outside. Alex felt like he was in a fishbowl. In Greenwich, those visits were like visiting someone’s house. He never felt this uncomfortable at those pancake breakfasts but then he was a little kid whom the guys would throw over his shoulder. As he thought harder, he always wondered why Alex Senior had not done the same. Other guys talked about playing horsy and the piggy-back rides their dads gave them as kids. At his house, it was golf, swimming and tennis lessons at the club. The world changes as you get older and the things that you did as a child differ from those as an adult. Alex cleaned up the rest of the kitchen and put everything away.

            Alex tied up the garbage and as he finished mopping the floor, Ryan walked in. “Thanks for leaving me here to clean up,” Alex said. “You said to go outside and join the guests,” Ryan said defending himself. “I’m sorry, I’m tired. Where does the trash go?” Alex asked. Ryan grabbed the trash and dropped it out the window. He looked out the window to see two garbage cans with the tops off. The garbage bag went directly in. That’s convenient Alex thought to himself.

            Alex asked if they had enough food. Ryan laughed and told him they just made it. The last muffin had been grabbed as he walked into the kitchen. “You’re kidding me, right?” Alex said almost shocked, “Ryan that was three pounds of bacon, three pounds of sausage, ten pounds of potatoes, two loaves of bread and that was just for the toast, not to mention the French Toast, muffins and three dozen eggs.” “You forgot the melon,” Ryan smiled. “Who the hell can eat all that food so early in the morning?” Alex questioned. “Look outside the kitchen,” said Ryan. It was too much for him to eat so early. He preferred brunch where you could eat later. Having those waffles the other day with Leslie was even a stretch for him.

            “Alex, these are fire fighters and their families. Trust me, these guys can eat. You need the strength for the job,” Ryan said. “To do what, lift an elephant?” Alex said. Although Ryan and a few of the other guys were in good shape, most of the guys looked like Casey, slightly over-weight with a small gut hanging over their pants. I guess they just work it off Alex thought and shrugged it off.

Hasbrouck Heights firehouse chef:

Art imitates life. Me cooking the last Engine One barbecue before I left for Grad School. Me setting up the buffet for dinner June 2022.

Author and Bloggers Note:

You can see what happens next by reading the novel “Firehouse 101”.

Retired Fire Fighter Justin Watrel, 19 year veteran of the Hasbrouck Heights Fire Department in Hasbrouck Heights, NJ.

My blog “My Life as a Fireman”:

https://mywalkinmanhattan.com/category/my-life-as-a-fireman-ff-justin-watrel