FIRE!!!

First I’d like to thank my Babers for an awesome weekend: all I’ve ever really wanted in life are late night talks on my patio fueled with beer, an IHOP partner on Sunday mornings, and someone to help my indecisive ass choose home furnishings (such as a comforter).

Now, you may or may not remember a post sometime last summer when I had some friends over for bbq chicken and French fries. BBQ at Bean's. Well, that night I made a statement that would soon mark itself in Jason and I’s future – The Night of the Grease Fire.

Jason doesn’t cook often, but when he does, he makes a mean pork chop and really awesome fried mushrooms. Saturday night after taking the steaks off the pit, Jason comes in to work on the mushrooms. To make a long story short, a little oil spillage happened mid-frying and Jason made a remark about a possible grease fire. Nervous, I opened the pantry to see where the fire extinguisher was and as I was doing so, Jason said he saw a quick flame pop out from under the pot.

“Grab the flour,” he tells me, “Just in case.”

Jason turns his head for a second and I see the flame. Squealing, I make out the words “grease fire!!” and he scoops up the flour, takes the pot of boiling oil and mushrooms off the stove and begins throwing flour at the flames. I’m freaking out and at this point he’s looking a bit nervous.

“Get a towel babe, quick.” I run to grab a towel out the laundry basket and I’m thinking – A damp one? A dry one? Which one’s better???

“Hurry babe!” Jason says loudly. Squealing again, I run into the kitchen and throw the towel at him. After just a minute or so the entire apartment is filled with smoke, burning our eyes and making it hard to breathe without coughing.

“Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppp!!!” Then the damn smoke detector goes off. I run to the hall and try yanking it off the wall. It’s hanging from its wires and still screaming its ass off, so I slam my hand into it a couple times, seeing as I’m not tall enough to look at what button to push. Jason come behind me and turns it off.

We just look at each other like “Did we just go through that?” It was the most bizarre thing, something you are warned of but never actually see. As I’m opening the doors and turning up the speed on the fans, Jason says aloud “Well I guess I could have just turned off the stove when the oil spilled in the first place.”

It was quite a hilarious event and yet we really didn’t laugh much while or after it was happening. Later, Babers posted his rendition of the evening’s events on our dry-erase board. Now usually I’m the dry erase board artist, but I must say, this particular drawing is a very accurate recording of the incident and tickles me every time I look at it. Note the beer that stayed in Jason’s hand throughout most of the grease fire fiasco.