Fire and Hair Do Not Mix

Chemistry class eighth hour with Mr. Boyd sophomore year was certainly one of the most interesting classes I have ever taken, but not for the subject (sorry Mr. Boyd, you made it as interesting as it could be to me). The mishaps during the labs were more entertaining than anything else. One day we were forced to be quiet (meaning me and howard) in order to do a special lab at the end of class.

We were to get our hands and arms completely wet with water, then scoop up a large amount of methane bubbles, then set our arms on fire.

What could go wrong?

Well, apparently if you have long hair you were supposed to take special care to keep your head back, me being one of them, since I was donning a gigantic afro.

When it was my turn, I got my arms wet and scooped up the bubbles with my hands, and let them loose over the open flame, but when I did that, I leaned forward and the flame went right by my face.

Now, everbody was having a jolly time, laughing and smiling because Americans are pyros and obsessed with flames and explosions. I turned around after it was over and saw Mr. Boyd's expression go from a big smile to an intense look of terror, seemingly in slow motion. He then yelled "YOUR HAIR IS ON FIRE!" and started hitting the flame growing on my head. After a good twenty seconds of being hit I ran out the door of the classroom yelling 'MY HAIR WAS ON FIRE!".

When I took a shower that night I noticed little black flakes falling from my scalp and a distinct burned smell escaping. There was a little bald spot until I cut my hair.