"You're goin,'" says firefighter Sal Aragono.\n Co-worker Vincent Geloso shakes his head no. \n"Yes, you awre," he repeats, this time more firmly.\n"No, I'm gonna be good tonight," Geloso declares. "I'm gonna be good -- I'm not drinking. I'm going to stay home and go to bed early."\nAragono's dark brown eyes glitter as he washes down a bite of his grilled chicken sandwich with a can of soda pop and grins at Geloso's bold-but-mistaken declaration that he would behave. \n"Look at Pinnochio's nose growin' over der," he laughs.\nAragano then drops the conversation with the comforting knowledge that his prediction will probably come true -- that Geloso will turn out for tonight's annual "Fire Under the Bridge" party at the Brooklyn Bridge.\nFirefighters say the party is sure to be "ass-kickin,'" which might have something to do with the fact that seemingly every 20-something woman in the city migrates to the riverside in festive and binding attire. All men are charged a $20 entrance fee, while women get in free but have the option of donating money to a Sept. 11 fund.\nNationwide, everything firefighters have been doing lately seems to in some way revolve around supporting other firefighters who were affected by Sept. 11 -- firefighters they might not even know. \nWhen people refer to the firefighting profession as a "brotherhood," it's not an exaggeration. Living, cooking, eating, cleaning and working in such close proximity with one another leads them to go beyond the acquaintance, friend and coworker stages -- they become family. \n10 House lost five family members.\nTheir station is roughly 50 feet away from Ground Zero and has been out of commission since Sept. 11. If you peer through the dusty windows on the large, red garage doors that mark the station, you'll see that almost all of the firefighter's personal belongings have been cleared out. They've been temporary relocated to the 7 Engine Station several blocks away.\nOnce a week, 10 House comes out to sell T-shirts for $20 apiece -- with proceeds going to the deceased firefighters' families and the station -- which is what they're doing when they roll up onto a curb amidst the Ground Zero merchandise mayhem. \nEveryone within a half block's radius is standing on their tiptoes to get a better view of what's going on, members of the 10 House fire station hop out of their engine, set up a makeshift souvenir stand and begin selling shirts out of cardboard boxes. \nWhile the firefighters' surprise visit is a delight for tourists and their NYPD buddies, who work in the area, the nearest street vendors take it as their cue to leave. \nPeople simultaneously abandon vendors in favor of 10 House. They are no longer looking for a bargain, but for heroes and a good cause. Even in the pressing heat and humidity of the day, they swarm around the truck, waiting to buy T-shirts and get pictures taken with them.\nFirefighter Garfield Boston is one of the designated photo opportunities for the day -- a prime candidate due to the plastic action figure he has tucked into his helmet.\nBoston says his niece gave the doll to him as a charm to keep him safe, and he keeps it with him whenever he makes a run to judge if it's getting too hot in a building.\n"If (the action figure) starts to melt, I'm in too deep and know I need to get out," Garfield says.\nNYPD Officer John Doyle says New York law enforcement officials are probably in more photo albums than celebrities.\nBoston good-naturedly mutters from the corner of his plastered-on grin that his face is, in fact, hurting very badly from all the smiling he is doing for the hundreds of pictures being taken.\nLt. John Burkello squints into the sun and crosses his tight forearms as he observes the phenomena that occurs every time their engine pulls up.\n"We deal with the public a lot, lately -- no one really noticed us before this," Burkello says.\nThey're getting attention now, though, and not just because of their profession. It's also because of their prophetic emblem, which has been around for 18 years.\nIt's on the side of their truck and on top of their lunch table -- an image of a fireman wielding a fire hose and straddling the top of World Trade Centers, which have a fire licking up their sides.\nThe NYPD also assisted in the city's recovery, which hasn't gone unnoticed by the public.\nDoyle says the NYPD has been feeling the love, too, like from the woman who had just walked up to him, crying and giving him a hug. \n"People used to hate us until this happened," Doyle says. "It's a much different job now." \nDoyle says officials try to be as helpful to the public as possible because they've been so good to them.\n"I thought (the kindness) would've died down by now, but it hasn't," Doyle says. "It's in everyone's heart. It could have happened to anyone, at anytime."\nEither this "unexpected death" notion still hasn't sunk into some firefighters' heads, or they're just choosing to disregard it and continue doing their job.\nFirefighter class enrollment has more than doubled in size since Sept. 11, with a little over 300 recruits going through the 10-week training.\n"We're young and stupid, so we're not scared," Garfield says. "If we were smarter, we'd be terrified."\nBrains or no, being a firefighter is not without its rewards -- particularly for those who work in New York and are worshiped by everyone in city.\nTheir high-spirits and stubborn attitudes are what can catapult them into a burning building or a blazing party.\nAs Doyle begins to sidle away from Boston and back into the crowd, Boston tells him their station is planning on throwing "the most insane party" when they get back together. Doyle nods and says "That's good -- you guys deserve it."\nGeloso says even though he has enjoyed some of their time-killing antics, this past year has been draining and despite everything that has happened with Sept. 11, his family wants to get back their station.\nThe department is burnt out on ceremonies," Geloso says. "Every time we're (at 10 House), we can't believe it's gone. We're just waiting for it to open so we can all get back to work"
A day in a life now changed
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