How to Not Light A Gas Grill

Here's a fun story from last weekend.

You know how a group of men and women fully versed in the arts of cooking and eating meat can usually start up a device for the cooking part of that process? Well it doesn't work so well on an unfamiliar grill. It happened on Jersey Shore; they set charcoal aflame in a gas grill. Nearly blew up the house.

This go around? Well, there was a time my dad burned off both his eyebrows using too much starter fluid, so let's just say I'm still the safer grill master at this age. Yes, I didn't quite burn off any hair, but my face felt the heat and I certainly had to check that I kept my sweet, trans-eyebrow Bong Villain scar.

For reference, this is what a gas grill's knob layout generally looks like:

You can adjust the flow of gas to adjust flame height and heat. It's very simple. The Ignition is also very clearly marked by a big scary red button. Like all things that explode.

The trick is, the ignition won't actually light unless the one starting burner (usually farthest away from you for obvious reasons) is turned to it's highest setting, marked by this little guy:

Little lightning bolts on electrically-sparked gas tanks. It's how Jaws ended, I think.

Here's the important bit:

When three of you are fidgeting with the burner knobs for a solid five minutes trying to get the lighter working, it's best to let the airspace above the grill air out a bit before cranking the gas up and igniting it all. Otherwise you get kind of a small Hindenburg event. Nothing major, but kind of yeah, a pretty decent sized fireball.

You also really scare the lady of the house, whose dad usually does all the grilling.

On Fire

So I sort of set the store I work at on fire yesterday. Just, like, a part of it, though. A small part.

You see, I had just sold the last of a certain product that's kept in a display on the floor and I thought, "This is a really sweet display. We'll probably keep this and use it when we get more in stock." So obviously I decided to stow the case right nearby, under a covered table like we do with everything else. It's goof feng shui, apparently.

Well, I went to lift up the two tablecloths and a throw that were covering the table and I saw that underneath was another huge display, but for something completely different and actually holiday themed. Since yesterday was Christmas Eve Day, I figured it'd be best to try and sell those out on the floor since they'd have to be boxed up for the next ten months if we didn't.

So there I am with one big thing to take out of storage, one to go back in and no hands to hold the tablecloths with. Like we always do in such situations, I just tossed the ends of the cloths up on the table and was pleased to see they didn't fall. As I was swapping the displays, the cloths began to fall, but having mostly completed my chore I caught it with my hand and held it in place while I wrapped everything up.

That's when I noticed my hand was warm. I looked up to make sure I hadn't moved the back of my palm too close to one of the scented candles we usually keep burning throughout the store and, lo and behold, no I hadn't. Instead, the corner of the tapestry through had landed atop the candle and smoldered itself to death, melting the rayon tablecloth and catching the cotton one ablaze.

A small blaze.

I only had to blow on it three times and smother the little embers that were left, but that was my cherry popping ceremony. Everyone who's worked in that store has set something on fire, what with all the clutter and candles. Everyone was actually really nice about it, even the customers who stuck around for like an hour after.

Of course, Hot Woman In Plaid, Glasses, and Hipster Jeggings totally saw it, which didn't feel so great. At least she'll remember me, now.