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hlprmnky · 10-23-2003, 08:50 AM

Two stories, one simliar to an earlier post:

1) My friends and I have been out drinking and carousing, and as we return to the dorm we realize that we are quite hungry. I decide that it's a mac and cheese kind of night, so I fire up the electric range in the dorm kitchen, add water, oil, and macaroni to an aluminum stock pot I have (from a camp cookery set - all I had available). Range on 'hi', pot on burner. Excellent, now all I have to do is wait for it to boil.

Hmm...

(did I mention that we had all been drinking? And that sitting in a flourescent-lit, nearly-silent kitchen is *boring* when you're drunk?)

...

"I think I'll nip over to my room and grab something to read while I wait.", I said to myself. Yes, that's it. To read.

(Did I further mention that this episode began well after bar closing time, and that I had been awake for something like 20 hours when the pot hit the burner?)

(and that I had been drinking?)

(can you see where this is going?)

The next morning comes along. I sit up, stretch. Memories of the night before come streaming back. The good times with friends. That pretty girl who smiled at me at the bar. The- OH HOLY SHIT THE MAC AND CHEESE!

I throw on some clothes and run upstairs to the kitchen, throwing the door wide and expecting to find a glowing-hot puddle of aluminum on the range, but there's nothing. I look around the room carefully. No pot. No scorch marks on the walls. Nothing. Was it all a dream? Suddenly, I am aware of another person in the kitchen, whom I recognize as one of the floor residents. He doesn't seem too happy.

"Looking for something, asshole?", he asks. Taken aback by his tone, I foolishly begin to nod before I realize the significance of his anger.

"It's out on the fire escape. You are never, ever to use this kitchen again."

I open the fire escape door. Immediately, even though I'm OUTSIDE, I am assailed by a bitter, ashen stench. There, in the corner of the platform, is my stock pot. The interior is filled with an oily black solid. Experimentally, I poke at it.

It is not macaroni.

It is, or appears to be, foamed, burnt aluminum. I turn to go inside, and the resident stops me.

"It took us three hours to air this place out this morning. That stays outside."

I carry my ruined pot down the fire escape steps and heave it into an outside waste container. In hindsight, I consider myself lucky to not have burned down the dorm.

Moral: If you have been drinking and it is late enough that you are hungry, do not use fire without a spotter. If the group of us had stayed together for a quick bite to eat, that never would have happened.

10-23-2003, 08:50 AM	#48 (permalink)
hlprmnky Upright Location: MN, USA	ah, college days... Two stories, one simliar to an earlier post: 1) My friends and I have been out drinking and carousing, and as we return to the dorm we realize that we are quite hungry. I decide that it's a mac and cheese kind of night, so I fire up the electric range in the dorm kitchen, add water, oil, and macaroni to an aluminum stock pot I have (from a camp cookery set - all I had available). Range on 'hi', pot on burner. Excellent, now all I have to do is wait for it to boil. Hmm... (did I mention that we had all been drinking? And that sitting in a flourescent-lit, nearly-silent kitchen is boring when you're drunk?) ... "I think I'll nip over to my room and grab something to read while I wait.", I said to myself. Yes, that's it. To read. (Did I further mention that this episode began well after bar closing time, and that I had been awake for something like 20 hours when the pot hit the burner?) (and that I had been drinking?) (can you see where this is going?) The next morning comes along. I sit up, stretch. Memories of the night before come streaming back. The good times with friends. That pretty girl who smiled at me at the bar. The- OH HOLY SHIT THE MAC AND CHEESE! I throw on some clothes and run upstairs to the kitchen, throwing the door wide and expecting to find a glowing-hot puddle of aluminum on the range, but there's nothing. I look around the room carefully. No pot. No scorch marks on the walls. Nothing. Was it all a dream? Suddenly, I am aware of another person in the kitchen, whom I recognize as one of the floor residents. He doesn't seem too happy. "Looking for something, asshole?", he asks. Taken aback by his tone, I foolishly begin to nod before I realize the significance of his anger. "It's out on the fire escape. You are never, ever to use this kitchen again." I open the fire escape door. Immediately, even though I'm OUTSIDE, I am assailed by a bitter, ashen stench. There, in the corner of the platform, is my stock pot. The interior is filled with an oily black solid. Experimentally, I poke at it. It is not macaroni. It is, or appears to be, foamed, burnt aluminum. I turn to go inside, and the resident stops me. "It took us three hours to air this place out this morning. That stays outside." I carry my ruined pot down the fire escape steps and heave it into an outside waste container. In hindsight, I consider myself lucky to not have burned down the dorm. Moral: If you have been drinking and it is late enough that you are hungry, do not use fire without a spotter. If the group of us had stayed together for a quick bite to eat, that never would have happened.