Holy Smoke!

I’m not afraid of flying, but I did start to panic when the flight attendant started making her opening announcements today. If tampering with a smoke detector in an airplane lavatory is a federal offense, I’m a little nervous about what I might be charged with when housekeeping discovers the smoke detector we pulled off the wall in our hotel room last night.

Just as my daughter and I had turned off the light and settled under our respective covers to let the white noise of NCIS reruns lull us to sleep, we heard a suspicious chirp. Ironic, given the hilarious bird-noise-free commercial we had just viewed (for the umpteenth time) for Aflac, its mascot duck having been recently silenced due to some tacky comments by the human quacker. Yes, we had just chuckled at the sight of the voiceless duck plastered against the front of a speeding train, its beak opened wide in a silent scream. Then, moments later, “Chirp!”

I assumed it was just one of the foul (fowl?) voices in my head (there’s no law that says those voices must be human), but my daughter immediately recognized the sound of a smoke detector with a fading battery. Shit. Pointless dialog from a favorite television series is one thing, but a pointless chorus of isolated chicken squawks is quite another. It’s like having the hiccups; the silence between each eruption is just an anxiety filled interlude of false hope. “Chirp!” We stared at each other and held our breath. “Chirp!” “SHIT!”

We considered our options. The last thing either one of us felt like doing was putting on some respectable clothing to wait indefinitely for some hotel staffer to replace the battery. Both of us have been having trouble sleeping so we figured we’d notice smoke without the help of our chatty detector, and there would be little harm in removing the battery ourselves. So up went my daughter, and, with impressive speed, she located the battery compartment and removed the defective item. I cheered, she bowed, and we turned off the light, again. “Chirp!” She seemed to have heard it too. Could we both be hearing the voices in my head? “Chirp!”

On went the light, again, and up went my daughter, again. She found a button to press, which seemed to awaken the lone chirper’s entire gaggle. It sounded suspiciously like a full blown smoke alarm. Luckily, when she pressed the same button again she silenced the birds, and we returned to the annoying but somewhat less threatening sound of the lone chirper. This time, she pulled the entire device off the wall. So naturally I wondered this morning, briefly, whether tampering with a smoke alarm in a hotel room in the nation’s Capitol was as serious an offense as tampering with a smoke alarm in an airplane lavatory. But the device was off the wall, and at least we’d be able to sleep. “Chirp!” Oh, say it wasn’t so. “Chirp!” Damn bird; it was like a chicken running around after its head has been cut off. Could anyone be that stubborn in her refusal to accept reality?

We considered our options: tossing the device out the window (too dangerous), putting it in the hallway (too incriminating), burying it deep within an extra blanket (too ineffective). We went with a bit of wire twisting and pulling – the scientific approach – and the bird was silenced.

Aflac is looking for a new obnoxious bird voice. I’m thinking we should have boxed up the damn smoke detector and sent it in for an audition.