London: The Working Hangover
This little story was at a time when I was working in Histology. We had to use absolute alcohol to wash out the specimens from the water-based fixative formaldehyde so as to be able to embed them in paraffin wax and then make very thin slices to look at under the microscope.
In the Lab we had a number of 20 litre canisters with abs. alcohol.
Anything more bulky would have been difficult to store in the Lab. When the canisters were empty, which was about every month, two of us were ‘picked’ to go and fill them up again from the large drums stored three floors down in the basement. One day it was my turn. So with a colleague, a trolley and about 10 canisters we set off for the ‘catacombs’ as we called them.
Our catacombs were dark and dingy, not spooky as such, more like an old wine cellar. Instead of wine bottles there were large drums of chemicals among them the drums of alcohol.
They were not easy to budge even when half full and so one could not just pick them up to tip the contents into the canisters. There was a siphon hand pump with a pipe that was inserted into the small opening on the top of the drum and another pipe that was inserted in the canister. It was an old contraption and one had to work it like mad before it would kick in and deliver.
Well this time it had finally given up the ghost, not a drop came out.
We wondered what to do, we had no intention of going back up stairs and say the pump was broken, even if it wasn't our fault. We looked around; maybe there was a spare one somewhere. There was nothing, apart from a couple of meters of clear plastic piping.
My colleague mentioned we could try siphoning it out like petrol from a car tank. I was a little taken back with the example he gave and didn't dwell on what he got up to in his spare time but in principal he was right, we could try it.
As he suggested it I let him go first. I removed the defect pump and my colleague inserted the pipe. He sucked on the other end until the alcohol appeared, then stopped and placed the end in the canister. The alcohol made a retreat back into the drum. After a few attempts he got the timing right and we had our first canister filled.
Now it was my turn, I followed his example, the only difference was that the end I put to my lips was now coated in alcohol and numbed them somewhat.
I decided I wanted to outdo my colleague in getting it right first time. I sucked like mad and the next moment my mouth was filled with burning fire! I stared to choke but managed to get the pipe into the next canister. As I continued my spluttering my colleague started to laugh his head off. After the initial shock, I joined in between bouts of coughing.
Now it was a competition!
He tried a little too hard to out do me and it was soon his turn to splutter and mine to laugh. We still had quite a few canisters to fill and so we took it in turns. The only problem was between giggling and sucking our coordination and ability to quickly react when the alcohol appeared was steadily getting worse with each mouthful. After a while I couldn’t care less if I got a wee dram of the hard stuff or not.
Well, I have little recollection of how we got back upstairs and I was told later that we turned up rolling about and babbling incoherently between bouts of giggling. The next thing I recollect was waking up a few hours later in one of the hospitals overnight rooms with a splitting headache. On returning to the Lab I recalled what I could to everyone’s amusement except for the boss, who just shook his head in disbelief.
The next time I went to the catacombs I found a brand new pump and therefore had no real incentive to experiment again.
[Ed: You could have gone blind!]
No, this was ethanol not methanol. I hardly drink at all, odd pint at the pub after lunch and a couple on Friday nights. This went straight to me head without passing Go.
It was just before lunch which hadn’t helped any.
In the Lab we had a number of 20 litre canisters with abs. alcohol.
Anything more bulky would have been difficult to store in the Lab. When the canisters were empty, which was about every month, two of us were ‘picked’ to go and fill them up again from the large drums stored three floors down in the basement. One day it was my turn. So with a colleague, a trolley and about 10 canisters we set off for the ‘catacombs’ as we called them.
Our catacombs were dark and dingy, not spooky as such, more like an old wine cellar. Instead of wine bottles there were large drums of chemicals among them the drums of alcohol.
They were not easy to budge even when half full and so one could not just pick them up to tip the contents into the canisters. There was a siphon hand pump with a pipe that was inserted into the small opening on the top of the drum and another pipe that was inserted in the canister. It was an old contraption and one had to work it like mad before it would kick in and deliver.
Well this time it had finally given up the ghost, not a drop came out.
We wondered what to do, we had no intention of going back up stairs and say the pump was broken, even if it wasn't our fault. We looked around; maybe there was a spare one somewhere. There was nothing, apart from a couple of meters of clear plastic piping.
My colleague mentioned we could try siphoning it out like petrol from a car tank. I was a little taken back with the example he gave and didn't dwell on what he got up to in his spare time but in principal he was right, we could try it.
As he suggested it I let him go first. I removed the defect pump and my colleague inserted the pipe. He sucked on the other end until the alcohol appeared, then stopped and placed the end in the canister. The alcohol made a retreat back into the drum. After a few attempts he got the timing right and we had our first canister filled.Now it was my turn, I followed his example, the only difference was that the end I put to my lips was now coated in alcohol and numbed them somewhat.
I decided I wanted to outdo my colleague in getting it right first time. I sucked like mad and the next moment my mouth was filled with burning fire! I stared to choke but managed to get the pipe into the next canister. As I continued my spluttering my colleague started to laugh his head off. After the initial shock, I joined in between bouts of coughing.
Now it was a competition!
He tried a little too hard to out do me and it was soon his turn to splutter and mine to laugh. We still had quite a few canisters to fill and so we took it in turns. The only problem was between giggling and sucking our coordination and ability to quickly react when the alcohol appeared was steadily getting worse with each mouthful. After a while I couldn’t care less if I got a wee dram of the hard stuff or not.
Well, I have little recollection of how we got back upstairs and I was told later that we turned up rolling about and babbling incoherently between bouts of giggling. The next thing I recollect was waking up a few hours later in one of the hospitals overnight rooms with a splitting headache. On returning to the Lab I recalled what I could to everyone’s amusement except for the boss, who just shook his head in disbelief.
The next time I went to the catacombs I found a brand new pump and therefore had no real incentive to experiment again.
[Ed: You could have gone blind!]
No, this was ethanol not methanol. I hardly drink at all, odd pint at the pub after lunch and a couple on Friday nights. This went straight to me head without passing Go.
It was just before lunch which hadn’t helped any.
Leave a Comment