I'm a simple emigrant and I don't like bombs

On one of those Fridays, the kind I had dreamed of after work—quietly lying around with snacks and watching a series—began some kind of bustle. My friend and neighbor, whose windows face the other side of the building, came over and said that there were a lot of police in front of the building and something was happening. We started googling information—we found nothing. But we kept monitoring, and then, in our building group, a screenshot from Twitter appeared! It was the Frankfurt Fire Department's account. They reported that right in front of my building a World War II bomb weighing 50 kg had been found. The thing is that in Frankfurt there are very many such bombs underground and always, when any construction begins and they dig a trench, they check for their presence. Cute, right? In any case, I sat and waited for them to fly for me by helicopter and evacuate me. No one came, and a new tweet appeared. In it, the firefighters asked everyone to evacuate by 6 p.m., and it was ten to six. Just like that, via Twitter; no sirens, no loudspeakers, no police knocking on the door. I gathered my belongings: money, my phone, water, and candies, if anyone suddenly felt unwell. Passport? Why bother... Still not believing that this was happening in such a way, I went outside and waited another 15 minutes for my friends to gather. For evacuation they designated an exhibition hall nearby, but we went to the center to stroll and have dinner. Another tweet promised that from 9 to 11 p.m. the bomb would be defused, but at 11 another tweet appeared: “evacuation is finished, we’re starting!” My friends and I sat like homeless people in the lobby of the nearest hotel. Last time the defusal took nine hours, so we checked the prices for rooms. But, fortunately, somewhere around 1 a.m. they removed the red-and-white tape and we were able to return home. Now I want to say, from the height of my experience: war is awful. #frankfurt #Ordnung