We were in an improv camp, at The Second City. The building, according to the elevator buttons, has four floors, but it also has several half floors. The inside looks like a mini mall. It looked totally safe. On the fourth floor there is a sort of lounge where we would eat lunch and check in. To the left of the escalator sits a door with a window that has The Second City logo on it and to the right of the escalator stands a big wall of famous comedians.

They were bobble heads and the only one I could recognize was Chris Farley. He was hard to miss, because his head was the biggest by far. In front of the escalator is a door the same as the other one, but with a ramp and stairs next to it. Behind the doors were some offices and conference rooms. Behind that, catwalks twist and turn.

We had just finished the first half of our day of playing improv games, and were eating lunch, and then a teacher I don't remember, grabbed the microphone used for announcements on the first day. He said, "Everybody, we are going downstairs". I don't remember who it was but soon all of the instructors were saying it. My instructor came to us and said "You can take whatever you want, but you could leave it too," as though it was important that we decided.

As I put my half­finished banana into my plastic lunch bag I was thinking that we were in for some sort of treat, like maybe ice cream. We were in 60 degree weather so I started thinking of alternate explanations. Plus, there were about 50 students! I brought my phone because I wanted to be safe, and I was very glad that I did because on the way down the escalator, I saw gray, black, and white smoke billowing faster and more furiously than a steam engine's chimney from some place that, due to the perspective, nobody could make out. It was a little bit funny because the escalators only fit one person at a time and for some levels that was the only way down.

When I figured out there was a fire, my brain started to not function properly. When we reached the bottom floor, we were told to sit down. My malfunctioning brain thought we would sit there until the fire passed. I understood the idea then, but regained my sanity later.

As soon as we left the building we were safe, but I still smelled the smoke very strongly. We must have looked like a huge amoeba that taught itself how to make so much sound. When I called my mom for the first time I couldn't hear her. Everybody was joking about what they would tell their parents, then calling their parents, then telling their friends what they told their parents. I was not scared because we had good reliable instructors, Lang was with me, and everyone was out of the building.

The only things that I worried about was that the smoke might have hurt someone if he­she inhaled it enough and that the fire might spread. We walked about two or three blocks to a parking lot where we could still smell and see the smoke. It smelled like a mix of some sort of some unnatural chemical and cigarettes and hurt my nose. I called my mom again and made it sound totally fine,"Nobody is hurt, the counselors are taking care of us, and we are even having fun and playing." so that she didn't lose her mind.

I kept on telling her where we where, and she kept asking “Where are you, where are you?” I did the best I could, but I could not prevent her crying and hanging up. While I was waiting I played games with the kids in my class. Everyone was cool about the fire. In fact there were many people taking "#burningbuilding" selfies.

The next day, I learned that the only two people who were hurt were firefighters who suffered smoke inhalation. The camp directors were very kind. They refunded our money and used a back part of a restaurant just across the street from Second City as what they called "baggage claim." I got my bag which smelled awful; there was a banana in it and the bag was plastic and slightly burnt. Fortunately, there was plenty to do in Chicago and my bag was starting to smell less terrible.