The incident occurs as usual. The dreaded fire alarm sounds through the halls. Students groan and shuffle their way to the grass. Most are bundled up for the cold, but a few wear only towels. Cigarettes glow like fireflies in the dark, illuminating the faces of those who’ve managed to convince themselves that this time it wasn’t their fault. This nightly ritual has become common due to the numerous renovations taking place in Simpson.
Ten o’clock is when Simpson begins to tease its true colors. However, it’s quite unusual for everyone in the building to stop what he’s doing and move into the rear parking lot. The men of Simpson prefer to prowl the halls in search of discussions, games, and potential trips to Taco Bell. Some students head off to bed — their work finished for the night — and shut out the chaos. The more adventurous choose this hour as the perfect time to try out Simpson’s new kitchens, spreading aromas of pancakes and cookies throughout the building.
These vapors created in the kitchens are the ‘fires’ that students must flee. One of the more prominent incidents was a three-alarm meal prepared by a resident, which would have been appreciated had it not been consumed just after midnight while many slept. The singed food triggered the main alarm, forcing the entire building to evacuate. In a domestic setting, waving a towel in front of the smoke detector to dispel the smoke could have resolved this incident. It seems strange that a kitchen would need to be directly connected to the fire alarm when sprinklers are installed in the ceiling for major fires and students can pull the lever to alert the rest of the dorm.
The real issue with these false alarms is that students and emergency response teams no longer take Simpson’s issues seriously. The smoke detectors’ tolerance is thinner than the wall of a library study room — someone could set them off with a bag of popcorn. Galloway could empty the dorm with a surprise breakfast. The men of Simpson need the assurance that help is less than twenty minutes away in case someone burns a piece of toast.
There is little Hillsdale College can do to assist with a fire-alarm-turned-food-critic. Students have taken matters into their own hands, bringing laptops out to watch movies, making well-timed trips to restaurants, passing around cigarettes, and taking refuge at the Donnybrook. Perhaps morale could be improved if the college erected shelters under which the men of Simpson could gather during their exile from the dorm. A place to build a bonfire would also help, given that it would only be used when the fire department had already been alerted. Students are losing sleep and study time from these interruptions in their nightly routines, and need a place nearby that allows them to resume their lives.
There is no need to have a smoke detector directly wired to the fire alarm. If such a system were present in Bon Appetit, local restaurants would skyrocket in popularity. It is more sensible to have only a manually-activated fire alarm in a building that houses hundreds of able-bodied men. Install simple household smoke detectors and let Simpson residents have the final verdict on whether safety is an issue.