Blog post: hypervalent_iodine: That one time it wasn't a drill

A few weeks ago, I was sitting in the student office at my desk when the fire alarm went off. This came as no real surprise as they are currently doing refurbishments on a couple of levels and the fire alarms have been going off on a fairly regular basis for at least the past fortnight. Usually, it would be preceded or at least interrupted by some sort of announcement. This time, however, there were no such announcements. After about 10 minutes, it became apparent that perhaps this one hadn't been planned. Rather than thinking, 'hey, maybe we should see what's happening', the response of people on my level was either, 'I'm sick of this, I'll see you people tomorrow' (followed by a trip in the elevator to the exit), or, 'it's not the evacuation alarm, so I'm just going to stay right here'. After another 15 minutes of what can best be described as apathy with a touch of confusion and annoyance, we were told it was just a false alarm courtesy of a few levels down. Crisis averted, I suppose.

It made me wonder, though. What if it hadn't of been alarm? I mean, I'm sure we would have been told to get out a little sooner than 25 minutes into the alarm sounding, but in a situation where every second could possibly make the difference of getting out of a building alive or not getting out at all it really does raise a few concerns. Concerns that were made rather apparent today when the fire alarm legitimately went off and everyone had to be evacuated.

That was the most factual account I could find. The first article released not long after it occurred stated that 'A nine-storey building has been evacuated and as firefighters attended to the situation', which was about where I stopped reading on account of the fact that I work on the apparently non-existent 11th floor (factual journalism at its best). Unless of course they were implying that the remaining levels didn't get evacuated at all. 'Oh sorry levels 10 and 11, you guys will have to stay here. Tell us if you smell anything corrosive'.

Now, I wasn't actually around to know how the evacuation played out. I woke up at my usual time to a message from a colleague telling me that the first floor had exploded. It was perhaps the most exciting thing that had happened all week, mainly because it meant that I could sleep in (and sleep in I did). Some people went back in to the building and started work after the first alarm had gone off thinking it was a drill. It in fact took multiple intercom messages to the tune of, 'if you are still here get out and get out right now', before it was fully evacuated. Apparently the, 'oh, it's just a drill', mentality was in full swing. Thankfully for those people, the explosion itself was fairly well contained and no one got hurt (except the poor firemen, who apparently got chemical burns in the process of cleaning up).

By 12.30, which was about when I made it in to campus following my extra 3 hours sleep, the first floor had been re-opened. All in all, the damage was pretty minimal. The explosion itself was the result of a waste container that decided that it had other ideas as to how it should be disposed of - it went with violently.

Fortuitously, the offending waste container had been taken to the small and enclosed chemical store room located in our docking bay - far away from the research and teaching labs and just far enough away from the NMR and mass spec labs to not ruin the lives of many. Indeed, it could have been considerably worse than it was. For one, the room is very enclosed and somewhat out of the way, so the two gigantic liquid nitrogen cylinders that are also in the docking bay managed to survive (there would be no chemistry building had they of exploded). It also happened at 7.45AM, before most people were in and before the first chemical delivery of the day had happened. No one was hurt and no research was destroyed, which certainly would not have been the case had it not of been taken down the night before.

The room itself is fairly repairable, though I sure as hell won't be going in there for a while. I've also heard rumors that the owner of the waste container has been identified. I had my money on Peter, but I'm told it wasn't him. In any case, I can imagine the person who does own it is in for one heck of a Monday morning.

If nothing else, I've made a new decision that the next time I hear a fire alarm I'll just take the stairs and get a coffee; better safe and caffeinated than grumpy and limbless (a great motto to live by, feel free to use it).

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