Around 9:00, my neighbor in the next apartment over had some sort of horrific cooking accident resulting in a pot full of hot oil falling on his kitchen floor, scorching it and generating a lot of smoke. The fiancee and I went outside and debated calling the fire department when we found out there was no actual flame, just a smoky breezeway.
Around 10:30, someone is banging on our door demanding we leave, since there's a fire in the building.
Around 10:35, standing outside at night in the middle of January in Denver, Colorado with hastily-donned clothing and no coat on, holding my pet rats in an exercise ball, I realize that someone upstairs called the fire department about the smoke, and there's no actual emergency.
Around 11:00, the fire department verifies that this is the case and we are allowed back into the building. We quickly discover that after we evacuated as we were told, the fire department kicked in our door for some godforsaken reason. It wasn't even locked. Now the doorknob doesn't work, but the maintenance guy is totally on his way you guys.
It's now 11:30. We just got back into the apartment. The maintenance tech immediately went to town on our deadbolt with a power drill, thus breaking the part of the door mechanism that still worked. He eventually jimmied the door open with a crowbar, a chisel, and a hammer to let us in, and is now working to repair the damage he himself did.
What a night. Time for lots of beer.