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Don't Get Burned
Err Travel · November 2, 1999

By now regular readers of Err Travel know of my near-paranoia of hotel fires. (Did I mention I've been in four?) You can bet that if a fire alarm goes off in my hotel, I'm outta there.

To me, there is only one prudent response to an alarm: Take action and take it now!

An alarm will usually be the only indication of a fire until it becomes a rip-roaring inferno, and if I were to wait for smoke or fire to appear, I'd miss the opportunity to escape.

Believe me. I'm not thrilled about being roused from sleep in the middle of the night, dragging my butt down six flights of stairs out into the snow -- only then to be told that some wisenheimer has set off the alarm as a prank.

I've done this drill dozens of times. I don't like it, but I will continue to do it. It is the only sensible response to a fire alarm. Outlined here is my all-too-familiar fire escaping routine. (You can find more detailed information in my book, Travel Can Be Murder).

First I get dressed. A shirt, pants, and shoes protect more than my modesty. I grab my room key, eyeglasses, flashlight, and cellular telephone. I quickly soak a towel with water to take with me.

I leave everything else.

I touch the handle of the door leading to the hotel corridor. If the doorknob is cool, I brace the door with my hip and open it slowly. If I were to see fire or thick smoke in the corridor outside or if I were to feel pressure pushing the door open, I'd close it and begin to prepare my room for survival.

(Fortunately, I've always acted fast enough that I was able to escape from the building.) Once in the corridor, I close the door behind me and look toward the closest exit to make sure it is passable. I move quickly toward the exit staying close to a wall to avoid being shoved by people running through the hallway.

If I were to encounter smoke -- I haven't yet in my escapes -- I'd drop to the floor where the air is less smoky. If I were to come across thick smoke in a stairwell, I'd get out and try another escape route or return to my room. I certainly wouldn't use an elevator. It might get stuck, or worse, deliver me into the heart of the fire.

As I mentioned, when an alarm sounds, I start moving. I've always been able to get out of burning hotels well in advance of any smoke or flames, and I'm usually ahead of most women and children as well. However, if I were unable to escape, I have a plan to survive in my room. I'd collect water to bail on the walls to cool them. I'd turn off the ventilation system, and seal the room.

If there were no flames or smoke outside my window, and if it could be opened, I would crack it open slightly to see if fresh air would enter. (If the window were sealed, I'd wait to break the glass only as a last resort.)

As far as jumping, unless I were only a story or two from the ground, I wouldn't risk pancaking myself on the sidewalk. (One rarely reads about people leaping to their safety.)

I'd get on the telephone to let the fire department know where I was, and if possible I'd hang a sheet from the window to draw the attention of rescuers. I'd try to remain as calm as I could and wait for rescue.

I can survive a hotel fire. If you do some escape planning, so can you. Over the past three weeks, I've given you a crash course in hotel fire safety. That should be the end of it. However there is another factor that comes into play. Next week I'll tell you how a hotel's "evacuation management procedure" can be a psychological impediment to your survival.

Dr. Terry Riley is a psychologist and travel security authority. His column appears on Wednesdays. He is author of the popular book Travel Can Be Murder. Visit his site at http://www.appliedpsychology.com or e-mail him at riley@appliedpsychology.com.