Yesterday, Amberly and I decided to grill out. Because you see, it was hot and humid outside and that's what we do in Ohio when it gets hot and humid - we light things on fire and stand over them. Because we are tough like that. We also eat puppies. And we never cry.
My parents had given me a small propane grill for my birthday. I had never really used a propane grill before, but really, how hard could it be? You just hook the propane tank up, turn it on and light it on fire. So I did all these things. And it was working beautifully. The little blue flame was going, the lava rocks were getting hot, and I was sweating more. And then I brought the chicken out.
Apparently my new, clean, shiny grill did not want that greasy chicken on it. Oh no it did not. And it let me know it by bursting into flames. Yes. Bursting into flames. It was a full-fledge fire temper tantrum. Complete with banging fists on the floor. Actually, I guess it wasn't the whole grill that burst into flames. Just the line that ran from the propane take to the grill. That burst into flames.
I responded to the flames by screaming, throwing the chicken down (which landed right side up in their container), and running inside and shutting the door. I began screaming at Amberly, "It's on fire! It's on fire!"
At this point I realize that the tank looked like it was on fire and I changed my screaming to "The tank is going to blow up! It's GOING TO BLOW UP!" To accompany my screaming I started to run around my apartment. Because I am tough like that.
Amberly responded to my screams with "Water! We need the water!"
"Will that work?" I screamed back as I ran to the front door to grab the fire extinguisher. I soon realized I couldn't remember how to work the fire extinguisher and ran back to the balcony door. At this point the flames have gotten bigger and I couldn't figure out what to do. That's how calm I was. And I was shaking. All I could think was "If I just let it blow up, it shouldn't be too bad. It won't blow out the window will it? I wish my Dad was here."
Amberly moved forward with her water plan and shoved a glass of water in my hand and yelled "Throw this on it!" I did. And it started to work. So Amberly started to fill up a pot and I stood out on the balcony and sprayed the flames with a squirt bottle. The whole time picturing the tank blowing up taking my hand and face with it. The pan of water put out the flames and I was able to turn the gas off.
And that's how I single handedly saved the apartment from a fire. Because I am tough and don't ever panic when propane tanks catch on fire.
Amberly then cooked our water-soaked chicken on the Foreman grill. And it was tasty and safe.