Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Bethanyisms (In Which I Burned Down a Fine Dining Establishment, My Apartment, My Apartment, and Guatemala—All in the Course of Few Months)


2003 was a tricky year.

Incident #1: Did you see that episode of The Office where “the temp” starts a fire at Dunder Mifflen by leaving a pizza pita in the microwave?

Yeah, they got that idea from me.

But it was a bagel. Why I put a bagel in the microwave to begin with is beyond me. Nonetheless, after five minutes and then a rather loud explosion, all of Gandolfos was brimming with a thick sticky smoke. Good thing the boss was out.


Incident #2 (two weeks later): After a particularly dreamy date, I glided into the apartment and sashayed to the kitchen.

I rested my head on my hand, which was propped up by my elbow, which was balanced on a potholder, which was sitting on the burner—and relayed the story of the goodnight kiss to my roommates.

Somewhere in the process I had accidentally flipped on the stove. The potholder burst into flames. There were yelps, a fire alarm, water, and then lots of laughter.


Incident #3 (two weeks after that): I lit a candle in the apartment. The candle was on top of a giant plastic Rubbermaid container. Below that Rubbermaid container was another Rubbermaid container. That particular container held three months worth of Salt Lake Tribunes… do you see where this is going?

The flames were spectacular.

We pushed the couch over the four feet of crispy black drywall and liquefied carpet. The landlord never noticed.


Incident #4 (A few months later): I should have died, but didn’t.

Our kitchen in Guatemala was about the size of a bathroom. I turned on the propane and lit the match. The stove didn’t light. I tried again. No success. I gave it one more go and was immediately engulfed in flames… not friendly yellowy happy flames, but deadly volcanic blue flames.

My friends in the other room screamed at the deafening “boom” and screamed louder as the gassy flames shot out of the kitchen door.

I emerged a few seconds later. I was missing all of my arm hair and half of my eyebrows, but had survived the inferno.

8 comments:

Rhea said...

Oh my gosh. That's all I have to say. Wow. Go buy a lottery ticket now!

Melanie said...

I can't believe that your landlord didn't notice!

I had a similar experience with a gas oven in Argentina. Fortunately/unfortunately it was my companion, rather than I, that felt the bite of the flames.

Tris said...

That is funny...you know, since I am tall, when I was pregnant the kitchen stove hit me just below my belly and I caught my shirt on fire while making Mac & Cheese.

Rachel Evans said...

Rick and I are dying in laughter! I need to keep my eye on you!

Nemuro said...

This comment has been removed because it linked to malicious content. Learn more.

Tojagal said...

This comment has been removed because it linked to malicious content. Learn more.

Bart said...

Wow. You have a decent amount of fire stories! It makes me wonder what other stories you have coming (both in real life - be careful please - and for your entertaining blog).

Ryan said...

OK no burning anything down while I am gone. You didnt add the time when you started the pot holder in our apartment on fire. Nice moves.

Love ya