In my student days I used to share a tall 4 story victorian town house with 5 other guys. The morning after a party I woke up long before everyone else, got bored and decided, after a trip out to the asian grocers, cook myself salt and pepper fish for breakfast.
Lit gas
wok on gas
add oil
realise I’d forgotten to chop the chillis
chop chillis – in my mind I believe i’ve done this very quickly – seemingly not
chuck chopped chillis into now super smoking hot oil
watch neat column of chili smoke immediately erupt from wok
run around trying to find a teatowel to get the near red hot handleless wok of the heat
done, a foot thick blanket of smoke is wafting around the ceiling, but otherwise disaster averted
breath – a tiny bit of chilli smoke catches the back of my throat and I cough and cough cough and cough cough and cough until I’m breathless. Involunarily take in a huge gulp of air and coat my lungs in chilli fume. cough and coughcough and coughcough and coughcough and coughcough and cough. Breathe and Repeat.
Eyes streaming, and worrying that I’m going to disturb the still sleeping household with my spluttering I open the kitchen window to let the smoke out. But instead the window draws air in and the smoke goes up the stairs like a chimney. Slowly, one floor and one bedroom at a time my deep-sleeping pissed housemates, their girlfriends and about a dozen party casualties tucked in boxrooms and bedroom floors are gently roused from their slumber
