Fireman Deli

It has been scientifically proven that all firemen are hot.

As a young girl, I was always thrilled when we'd pull up to the grocery store only to see that shiny red engine parked in front. The firemen were shopping! I'd flee from my mother's side to roam the aisles, searching for them. And when I'd spot them? I'd act shy, ignoring their smiles and waves and hellos. That's what girls do.

Years later while in high school, my mom and I were at the drug store and ran into a guy we'd known my entire life, Sean Kale (name changed ever so slightly in case he doesn't want to be labeled as "hot" or "dreamy"). Sean was a few years older than me, and was the homecoming king, a great athlete, a cool guy, etc. He had become a rookie for the (wait for it...) fire department. He was so sweet, hugging both my mom and me, making our day. As we drove away, my mom commented, "Aren't all firemen hot? That's a perfect career for Sean." Yes, mom, you're totally right.

I dated a Yonkers fireman, albeit briefly, in New York City. I met him at a swing dance club back when that was cool. He was painfully hot, so I got his number. He even drove a Harley. Fireman. Dancer. Harley. Yikes. After a few dates and one very strange night we called it quits, but it was fun while it lasted. I never knew what happened to him during 9/11, but I assumed he was one of the many heroes that day and in the months and years to follow.

These days, my love of those heroes continues. We live one block from a deli where the local firemen like to grab lunch. My daughter calls it "Firemen Deli" and if that hot red engine is parked in front after her ballet class each Friday, it's a given where we end up having our lunch. Once we were seated right next to them, and what did they do to my cute, pink, tutu'd toddler? They smiled and waved and hello'd us, I mean, her. Each one of them was hot, from the rookie to the captain. And what did she do? She acted shy, ignoring their smiles and waves and hellos. That's just what girls do.