Once. My then-wife and I saw a plume of smoke emerging from a nearby apartment-building roof. Turned out the fire department was already on the way.
A few years ago, driving around at 5 in the morning, I saw a guy in motorcycle gear laid-out at the side of the road (sleeping it off? run off his bike? dead?) in an unincorporated suburb of Indianapolis, and I didn’t own a cell phone. Raced home, a mile away, but over the county line and with a different 911 system. I called the sheriff’s department for the county the guy was lying in, rather than calling my local 911 and risking having to deal with being transferred through phone systems or possibly having to deal with Indianapolis or Greenwood police, who didn’t have direct jurisdiction over the area. My then-girlfriend was upset with me for a long time, telling me I had wasted time by looking up the county sheriff’s number rather than immediately dialling 911. Still don’t know if I chose the correct way to deal with the guy, and I still don’t know what happened to him.
I think I’ve called emergency services three times in total. All were for my mother; two for strokes, one when her hip joint gave out and she couldn’t get up out of a chair (she needed and got a hip replacement).
I’ve found stolen property, reported burglar alarms going off, shots being fired, after being burgled, various car accidents, reported fires, reported a driver driving the wrong way round a roundabout, and more.
First: We had an old Crown Vic with an idle set too high. My mom parked, got out to check her parking job, and the car drove into the neighbor’s house.
Second: Drunk driver in front of me drives off the road, up a gravel embankment, and into a utility pole. Her car ends up between the embankment and the pole with about a five foot drop.
Third: I called and asked “What’s the non-emergency number for this area?” got the number, said thanks, and hung up. I don’t actually remember the non-emergency.
This last October, for an ambulance for me. Apparently when not so good gall bladders go bad, they’re done and they mean it.
Prior to that, calling for an accident that happened in front of my mom and I one Christmas approximately 15 years ago, and before that only an accidental call about 20 years ago.
1966: One of my college housemates committed suicide. This was before 911, so I had to go through the operator. I was so freaked out, seeing the guy hanging in his room, that I couldn’t remember our address.
1981-1985: I was a volunteer at a crisis intervention center; had to call 911 many times.
1990: A woman was being raped across the courtyard from my apartment.
1994: My father, who had Alzheimer’s, accidentally locked himself in the bathroom, and we couldn’t explain to him how to unlock the door.
2002: A woman lost consciousness while driving, and crashed into a tree across the street.
2005: My mother fell in the bathroom at 5 a.m., and died three days later.
Small brush fire by the side of the road, next to a very dry hillside.
Dog running around in the lanes of 880N, a busy freeway out here.
Car accident.
Unfortunately, I only got through once. (The fire.) The other two times I sat on hold for 10-15 minutes, by which point I was so far from the incident in question that I wasn’t sure how useful my report would be and I hung up. Makes me nervous about not having a landline at home any more – I’ll feel pretty dumb if I die on hold just to save that one monthly bill.
At least once a day…but it is what I do for a living! (I call myself at the beginning of each shift to check the connectivity between my 911 system and my CAD {Computer Aided Dispatch} System).
Calling for real, I have actually never done. I have called for FD, PD, EMS several times, but because I am in the business, and call other agencies on their business lines multiple times a day, I usually end up calling that number out of habit.
Once, when I went into a McDonald’s and they ran out of Chicken McNuggets.
Seriously though, one time a person in my hiking group fell/ran off a cliff and cracked his skull on some rocks. He ended up being alright in the end, but it was especially worrying considering the relative remoteness of the location.
Probably 10 times in 40 years, mostly for traffic accidents or fires. Plus any number of non-emergency calls to the cops or fire dispatch for more minor problems.
My garage on fire.
Found a body floating in the river.
Old senile guy driving the wrong way on a highway.
Kids throwing canned food at cars on said highway.
Woman having a seizure in front of my house.
Truck on the highway on fire.
Domestic across the street.
Domestic across the street.
Domestic across the street (thankfully they divorced and moved their separate ways)
car accident.
When my mom was deep in dementia, she would regularly call me and be astonished when I answered. She thought she was calling one of my other siblings. I had gotten her a large-button phone with memory dialing, and my sibs and I were all clearly labeled on the appropriate buttons. I attributed her this to her punching the wrong button.
The phone also had a pre-programmed 911 button. Mom was on oxygen and was prone to panic attacks. The nursing staff told me she often called 911 when she was having trouble breathing.
Then we went through a period where I called her and she told me, “I tried calling you, but when I punched your button on the phone, it dialed 911.” At other times, she told me she was in a hotel and the staff wasn’t bringing her dinner, so I took the 911 thing with a grain of salt.
The 911 thing went on for some time. Then, one day when I was with her and she mentioned it, I tested the phone so I could show her she was just pushing the wrong button.
Every programmed button WAS dialing 911! I replaced her phone, but forever after I felt really bad about dismissing the 911 thing as part of her dementia.
I did something similar from home, trying to dial the 913 area code. My finger must have slipped at the same time I realized I couldn’t remember the rest of the number and needed to get out my planner again. Luckily, they called back rather than sending someone.
Once for a house on fire and once for a fire in a skip. Twice to domestic violence on the street. Once when I fell down stairs and broke my ankle.
The house on fire was a kinda funny call. I was with my ex husband and we had to run back to the nearest phone box. It was actually him who made the call and he was in fact the third caller about it. While he was on the phone I watched a car reverse out of the street the fire was in with a great screeching of brakes and shoot down to the phone box. A highly agitated man jumped out, ignored me when I tried to tell him it was OK, fire brigade was being called and tried to pull ex out of the phone box. Quite understandable but quite ridiculous.
Calling over my broken leg had its funny side too. After getting the initial details the call taker asked me to hold on while she put the call out for the ambulance. I assumed she wouldn’t be able to hear me and recommenced the only pain relief I had – swearing a blue streak. In a very kind voice she said “It’s alright I can still hear you.” Oops.
