At first glance, they seemed completely harmless, these tall, athletic young Asian men men, about thirty of them I’m estimating. They were baseball players from South Korea. Sharing the footpath with them were approximately 70 hotel guests, and 20 residents from the apartments above the hotel, including myself and Rosemary. Altogether, around 120 people were crammed together between three massive fire trucks and the hotel lobby.

It all began around 9:30 p.m. on a quiet weeknight in February. A siren cut through the air, interrupting a Netflix movie about a homesick penguin. Moments later, a calm but authoritative voice came through the ceiling speakers: we were instructed to evacuate the building.

In August 2023, we moved into our bran-new new apartment. We bought off the plan. Not sure that was a good idea. It’s on the 11th floor of a 14-story building. Below us is a newly opened Holiday Inn, while above are three more floors of private residences—14 apartments in total.

We took the stairs down, cautiously sniffing the air like bloodhounds, searching for any hint of smoke. By the time we reached the street, it appeared the Korean baseball team had already evacuated and were gathered near the hotel entrance, looking sombre. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. Over the next 15 minutes, more hotel guests trickled out, some carrying pets and many looking dishevelled. One young woman, still in her pyjamas and wearing a full layer of night cream, seemed utterly unfazed by her public appearance. Or maybe she was a gymnast in Cirque du Solait? Another woman, possibly in her late twenties, collapsed during the evacuation, hitting her head on the pavement. Thankfully, she regained consciousness just as the ambulance arrived 15 minutes later.

Amidst the chaos, no one seemed to know what was happening. There were no visible signs of smoke, no fire alarms blaring—just a lot of confusion. As permanent residents, we have a private entrance with its own lobby, where the master sprinkler control panel is located. Inside, three firefighters were inspecting it with puzzled expressions.

The residents huddled together at the corner of the street, speculating about the cause of the evacuation. Meanwhile, the Korean baseball players looked increasingly uneasy, as though they knew something the rest of us didn’t. Could they have been involved?

It took nearly an hour for the truth to come to light. As it turned out, one of the baseball players had accidentally struck a ceiling-mounted fire sprinkler with his bat. The impact triggered a flood, soaking not just his hotel room but also the entire fourth floor. Eventually, we were allowed back into our apartments, but the flooding left its mark. One of our elevator shafts—separate from the hotel’s elevators—was severely damaged by the water. Repairs to the electronic systems have been estimated at over $125,000.

Now, nearly two months later, we’re still operating with just one functional elevator. To be fair, it hasn’t caused too many disruptions, but our owners’ corporation had to file an insurance claim to cover the costs. Just this week, the insurance company finally agreed to pay out, which, I suppose, was the least they could do.

All of this has left me feeling uneasy. If an innocent indoor game of baseball can cause this much damage, what might future hotel guests be capable of? Incidents like this could easily lead to higher insurance premiums for residents like us. It’s a worrying thought.

Postscript: The police interviewed the culprit but decided not to press charges, as he insisted it was an accident.

15 Apr 2025