Chase's Chatter: Alarm not worth waking up for

Ninety-nine percent of the time, waking up to the blaring siren of a fire alarm is an unpleasant matter. But considering I was having the sort of nightmare that forced beads of sweat through every pore despite the ice-cold air, it could’ve been a more unpleasant awakening.
In my half-asleep state, I nearly chalked the sound up to a hallucination or remnant of my hellish dream in which rattling monsters chased me through a sour, air-tight cave. But as I blinked the sleep from my eyes, the incessant BEEP BEEP BEEP *pause* BEEP BEEP BEEP continued.
Finally, my mother and kid brother, who’d been sleeping in the hotel bed next to mine darted upright. In a swirl of confusion and frantic throwing-together of outfits, we opened the door and looked into the bright hallway lit by yellow fluorescent lights.
No fire, but my grandmother and sister, holding her son, stood waiting for us. They’d been sleeping in the room next door.
“Let’s go, guys,” my grandmother said through a sleepy voice. “That’s a fire alarm.”
With a slight wave, I told the rest of the group I had to use the restroom really quickly, then I’d meet them downstairs. I figured if there was a fire somewhere in the building, this would likely be my last chance to empty my bladder for a while.
After half a minute or so in the bathroom, I pulled on my shoes, opened the door and cocked my head in both directions. There was nobody there. With a shrug, I walked to the nearest stairwell and made my descent to the lobby. Striding across the marble floor to the exit, I saw several groggy hotel guests sitting in the parking lot through the glass doors. I decided to join them.
I scanned the parking lot for my family, but didn’t see any familiar faces so I called my sister. I figured she’d be most likely to answer, and I was correct.
“Where are you guys?” I asked with a tinge of concern.
“We’re back in our rooms,” she replied. “The lady at the front desk told us somebody had been smoking in a room or something but it was safe to go back.”
A remarked something about how the alarms were still blaring and told her I was going to wait outside to avoid bursting my ear drums.
About 10 minutes later, my family had seemingly decided they also valued their ability to hear and joined me on the black pavement.
“Did you find out what happened, Mr. Investigative Reporter?” My grandma joked.
I chuckled and told her I hadn’t, but I had a suspicion an elderly couple smoking on a nearby bench were the culprits. I had no proof but my tired, irritated brain wanted somebody to blame for my budding headache and dark bags forming under my eyes. I checked my phone and groaned at the realization it was 3:30 a.m.
Meanwhile the deafening screech of the fire alarm continued.
We stood around, arms crossed and feet tapping, waiting for the slightest update from hotel staff – like baby birds waiting to be fed. We then decided the hot Georgia night would be better spent inside our air-conditioned rental car.
After another 10 minutes or so, a fire engine came roaring down the busy city strip and parked outside our hotel. Four men wearing typical fire gear left the truck and entered the hotel.
After another round of waiting, the lady at the front desk came to our vehicle’s window and told us that there was no danger, but they were figuring out how to stop the alarm. My sister made a guess that the firefighters had to check each of the hundreds of rooms before they could clear the emergency, which appeared to be true as we sat for what seemed like an eternity.
Inside the car, the fire alarm sounded like it was underwater, but it still wasn’t exactly a soothing noise. It was almost like standing in the rain, uncomfortable but not necessarily painful.
Only an hour later, the fire department gave the all-clear so all us patrons left the parking lot and scattered to our rooms. About an hour and a half since the alarm had initially sounded, it finally rested for the night. And once again, the ice machine became the loudest thing in the hotel hallway, as it should be in any hotel hallway.
The experience proved that, although not all vacation adventures are pleasant, they can be just as memorable as the ones that are.