Kevin from Economy Class & Beyond reminded me on twitter today that I’ve somehow become the expert in bras and travel.
A quick search of the word “bra” on my blog reveals:
Oh boy. Mom continues to be proud of me.
To continue to lighten up the subject matter of this blog, I figured I’d talk about a recent, er, experience I had.
I went out to a hookah bar with my friends and got a hookah for the table. No big deal, right?
Well, when the coal started running out, someone took an especially long drag on the hookah and the coal burst into pieces.
Of course one of these pieces flew right into my dress and landed inside of my bra.
I can’t make these things up.
Now, I’m in a lounge. And I can’t easily access that area. And my bra is now on fire.
I bolted into what looked to be a private area. And luckily, 1. It was. 2. It wasn’t being used.
I yanked off my clothes, smothered out the (very small) fire, and rejoined the group. (After getting dressed again, of course.)
I didn’t realize how much some of my friends were panicking. The second I rejoined the group, someone poured ice water down the front of my dress. Moments later, a friend ran in with olive oil that she got from the kitchen and threw that into the mix too.
Leaving me like this for the rest of the evening:
But aside from learning what you shouldn’t do for burns in an emergency (everything my friends did), I learned that if hookah bars use cheap, quick-light style coals, they are prone to burst. Eeep. Usually though, the coal pieces don’t have such good aim.
I escaped from all this with mild burn scars and a burnt up bra, so I feel lucky it wasn’t worse. But now I know to challenge my usual assumption, which is: if they allow us to do it in here, it must be safe!