Don't laugh, Et, this really happened:

I was working night shift in the lab many years ago. I was performing an analysis which included doing an ether extraction to remove an oil coating on a textile product. I was dog-tired at the time. Once the extraction time was completed, I removed the flask containing the ether soaked textile from the distillation apparatus and took it to the lab bench where I would remove the soaked textile. From there it was supposed to go into an oven where it would be dried for one hour, then weighed and the % oil calculated. I was so damned tired that I was not thinking well. I just happened to have a bunsen burner lit in a fume hood and thought to myself, perhaps I could minimize the drying time by just holding the ether soaked stuff over the flame, not too closely but just enough to git that darned thing to dry. I retrieved some conveniently located tongs and grabbed the ball of textile material (celulose acetate) and held it over the burner. Everything was going well for about 10 second then suddenly, and not too surprisingly, the whole ball of wax (figuratively speaking, of course) caught fire. I stood there dumb-founded for a few seconds then with incredible swiftness of misaligned thought, I pulled the flaming ball of celulose acetate out of the fume hood and tossed it onto the floor.

Here's where I was vying hard for a Darwin Award:

Once the brilliant ball of fire was on the floor quietly burning away, I immediately realized that if anyone of consequence walked into the lab, my ass would be grass, so I immediately stomped the burning ball of anxiety with my right foot. Anyone who understands the concept of flamable limits works will understand that the actual ball of cellulose acetate was not on fire, only the ether vapours surrounding it were. By stomping on the soaking ball of stuff, I squished out the liquid ether from inside the mass of difficulties underfoot. Once the liquid ether was exposed to the air, it immediately evaporated and the gaseous ether enveloped my entire right foot (booted for safety). The newly formed envelope of ether immediately caught fire as I looked down at my foot. The flames jumped almost to knee height so that all I could see was FIRRRRRRRRRE down thare.

Doing the Safety Dance:

Once the fire blanketed my foot and part of my leg, I immediately pulled my foot off the ball of fire and "shook a leg" hard and fast, stamping my foot on the floor as much as possible (for no apparently effective reason other than it seemed right to do so). The ether cloud around my foot and leg burned out quickly and I turned my attention back to the still burning ball of fuzz (cellulose acetate is like cotton in the form I was working with). I scratched my head as I wondered what the hell to do to make this problem fade into nothingness. Remember, I was working NIGHT SHIFT, so my thinking process was dim at best, especially this night (obviously, eh!). Finally, I came up with an effective solution: get something big and flat, anything, and lay it over top with gentle pressure so as not to squeeze out the ether but to suffocate the f***ing fire. I used a piece of metal we kept in the lab and snuffed the problem spot out quickly.

How do I save my test?

Once the flames were out, I mopped my somewhat damp forehead and stared at the ball of fuzz on the floor. It looked as if I had just dropped it there accidently...it had not melted or anything...there was no indication anywhere that a fire had just been put out. I picked it up with pinched fingers to possibly save it so that I could complete my test. I examined it for damage, none seen, and considered if it was er, prudent (pun intended) to use it to get the test done. Considering that I had no idea how much of the fuzz had been lost during my safety dance and not knowing how much dirt it picked up off the well-used floor, I opted to get a new sample and repeat the test.

The Truth Comes Out:

I did not tell anyone about this attempt to win the Darwin Award for over 20 years. This is only the second time I have ever told this story.

Moral: Fire and organic solvents do not mix, not even while working night shift.

Robert (Darwi)N('s loss) Pruden