Sooooo…..I totally started a fire. In the shower of all places. In Honduras. In my very generous host family’s house.
There are no hot water tanks here, so everyone has these heated shower heads. I was showering and heard a POP ans then sparks were shooting out of the wall, then smoke and flames. I started screaming and ran, soaking wet (thankfully with a towel) out of the bathroom.
All of the guys are standing around the table in shock so I scream at them FIRE!!!! Chris runs back the hall to confirm that there is indeed a fire. Brent and Dan are both scrambling around the kitchen mumbling water water water. So I yell at them “NO!!! IT’S AN ELECTRICAL FIRE!!” Brent yells “FLOUR!! WE NEED FLOUR!! No. Wait. That for gas.”
The stupidity of that stopped me in my tracks and I was like “What??? It’s not a freaking grease fire!!” I’m fumbling around the kitchen looking for a fire extinguisher and the fire goes out on it’s own. Thank goodness for concrete walls.
I run to get dressed then we spend the next 20 minutes finding a breakers to switch off and unplug the thing (that is still occasionally sparking). One attempt included Dan, wearing his own rubber sole shoes on his feet, wearing Chris’s rubber sole shoes on his hands and me in the hall with a broom ready to wack him if he got electrocuted.
We decided to wait until Rossel came home.
Ai ai ai!
I don’t think they will ever forget this gringa!!
(no humans, brooms, or bags of flour were harmed during this event. unless you count my pride, in which case it’s irreparably damaged. running around in front of guys you go to church with in your towel is a very humbling, and hilarious, experience.