To Build a Fire - Part 2

When I was 11 years old, my dad taught me how to make popcorn without a popcorn popper. You put some oil in a pot and you put the kernels in. You cover the pot so the oil heats up faster and doesn’t splatter. Almost every day, I made popcorn.

This day was like every other. I started the popcorn and went into my Dad’s room for just a second, but something really interesting was on TV. (I used to get sidetracked a lot as a kid…okay, so I still do.) About 30 minutes later, after the show ended, I walked by the kitchen and saw the pot. I said to myself, “Oops, I left it on a bit long. At least I know it’s done.”

I lifted the lid off the pot and a flame about 2 feet high jumped out. I really wasn’t expecting that, so I picked up the pot and quickly ran outside and threw it on a dirt area (there should have been grass, but this was Texas, folks). I threw dirt on the pot and the fire went out.

Looking back, I’m rather impressed that, as an 11-year old, I knew enough to not stick the pot under the faucet and pour water on it. I was so scared that my dad was going to be mad about the pot (it was completely charred black), that I spent the next 2 or 3 hours scrubbing that thing. There wasn’t enough Comet in the world (nor strength in my arms) for that…and I didn’t know about SOS brillo pads at that point in my life. When my dad came home, with my head hanging low and nervousness in my voice, I told him what happened. To my surprise, he wasn’t angry. He was actually quite impressed that I acted rationally by taking the pot outside and throwing dirt on it.

Now that I’ve been a firefighter, Eagle Scout, and every other form of pyromaniac, I wish I had known that all I needed to do was put the lid back on the pot to cut off the oxygen source and kill the flame.