Winter in the shop is always fun.Working in basically an uninsulated overgrown poleshed during these Wisconsin winters is always fun. Some days it seemed that management forgot to pay the heating bill and you would swear you could hear ice hitting the pot when you went to the bathroom (don't ask about no. 2). Other days, it seemed that they were dreaming of some tropical vacation and we all had sweat rolling down places that I wouldn't care to mention. I do recall on one of those days a rather unpleasant surprise.
We were working on these items that required three rather SLOW welds, so it took me about 3 minutes per to finish it. We only had about a billion of them to do, so I was set for the rest of the day. That morning had started at a balmy 18 below, so I was shaking like a leaf, and my welds looked like bird sh.. ummm, poop. I was more interested in huddling close to the weld and soaking up the heat than what the weld actually looked like, damn them. You know, after you do something about a hundred times in a row, your mind begins to wander. Occasionally, it jumps in the car a drives away. This was one of those drive away days. I'm standing there, mentally whistling while I worked (oh if my co-workers only knew), when I felt a warm breeze wash over my leg. "Gee, it sure was nice of someone to put a heater over here", I thought to myself. I kept welding, finishing the first and moving on to the second. I sort of glanced around before I started the second weld to see where the heater was - maybe I could get a little closer. No such luck. I got about halfway through the second weld and thought, "It is starting to get a little warm in here". I was just finishing up the second weld when an odd odor smacked my nose. "Gee, it smells like something is burning..." I looked around - nope, no flames in sight. I started on the third weld. By now, sweat was starting to drip off my nose. I finished up my third weld and flipped my hood up. "Uh-oh, something IS burning..." I frantically glanced around trying to identify what was on fire. Then I looked down.
I can't really remember what what I thought at that moment, but it was something like "Holy SH**, I'm on FIRE!" Flames had engulfed my left leg all the way up to my, well, about 6 inched below my belt. I quickly patted out the flames and assessed the damage. About a quarter of my pant leg was gone and there were black floaties all around me. Let's see - still have the hair on my leg, no crustiness, no blisters - good to go. I did a quick sweep to see if anyone noticed the blazing inferno (me) on the line. Nope. Thank GOD!
For the rest of the day I poked around with a good part of my pants missing. Nobody seemed to notice. Well, I'm sure they did, and they were silently laughing their ass off, but the same thing has probably happened to them at some time or another, so they said nothing. Of course, my wife had no reservations about that, she laughed so hard I think she hurt herself. For days. Every time I walked by. I remember the words "moron", doofus", and "idiot" floating around the house, but I paid no attention to it (right).
I never did wear my cool (frayed) jeans to work again.
