It was February 7, 2022 — the night I thought I would either burn in a hotel fire or lose all my belongings. It was 9:00 in the evening at the Best Western Le Roosevelt hotel in Nice. As the fire alarm blared, I grabbed my cross-body bag containing my passport, credit card, money, COVID vaccination card and pass sanitaire, a health pass required by the French government. I was debating on whether to bring my backpack.

"Nida, let's go!" Debra urged me as she held the door, with a serious look on her face. She was in her pajamas but managed to throw on her black wool coat.

Descending down the wide, spiral marble staircase from the fourth floor, I prayed as my heart pounded in my chest. Other hotel guests had joined. Just before we reached the ground floor, an older gentleman and a young lady from the reception desk stopped us.

"It's okay. It's okay, it's okay," she repeated as she waved her hands in front of the frightened hotel guests. The fire alarm was still blaring and the smell of smoke filled the air around the staircase. In my broken French, I said, "Mais, il y a fumee." But there's smoke.

This was a first for me, hearing a fire alarm in a hotel room. This was not a fire drill. Apparently, the man at the reception desk forgot the pizza he was heating in the microwave and it burned.

Before returning to our rooms, Debra and I walked out of the lobby onto the street to get some fresh air. I smelled smoke on my denim jacket and face mask.

February 27, 2022 at 5:46 a.m. when the fire alarm sounded urgently. This time, we were at Ibis Notre Dame Hotel. I looked at Debra in disbelief. "No way! This can't be true. Not again!"

I peeked in the hallway outside our hotel room on the fourth floor. A man was pacing, perhaps unsure of what to do. He looked at me but said nothing. Barely awake, I too, was at a loss for words. The alarm didn't stop. Debra and I put our coats over our pajamas and grabbed our purses.

"Let's go!" I said to Debra. Other guests started coming out of their rooms, walking down the stairs.

"This hotel sucks," a young woman exclaimed as she hurried down, a scarf trailing from her shoulder almost touching the floor. On her left arm, she carried a small carry-on against her hip. Another young woman, maybe her sister walked behind her, also carrying her not-quite-closed suitcase. I followed them down the stairs.

About ten people were huddled in the landing, some were wearing a mask like me. I walked to the front and pushed the door to the lobby; Debra walked right behind me. The young man behind the reception desk was on the telephone talking to someone. As soon as he got off the phone, an older woman asked. "Qu'est-ce-qui se passe?" What's happening?

Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked sheepish. He didn't address the small crowd around the lobby and didn't quite answer the woman's question. I thought he said, "There's no problem." The lobby smelled of toasted bread. The alarm turned off and we returned to our rooms.

~ Nida Spalding