I left the iron on (ca 2000).

I sometimes reminisce about an event that did occur, but shouldn’t have. I go back in my mind to around 2000. It could have been 1998 or 2005, or somewhere in between. But it wasn’t before 1998, because that’s when I moved into my current residence on Friars Road in the San Diego neighborhood of Mission Valley. And that’s where it happened. I had left my apartment around 10 am on a Saturday to board a plane with final destination Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I don’t remember the time of the year but that doesn’t matter that much in San Diego, because its mild climate gives a spring feeling all year round. Obviously, not in Philadelphia.

I recall that I was attending a conference or workshop, presumably on ceramic materials for gas turbines which was my major technical interest at the time. I had been involved in the selection, evaluation and testing of monolithic materials such as silicon nitride and silicon carbide and ceramic matrix composites, silicon carbide- or oxide-based since 1992, when my company, Solar Turbines, a division of Caterpillar Inc. landed a large multi-year contract to develop ceramic components for industrial gas turbines. The work that continued in various forms until I retired from the company in 2010, culminated in a series of gas turbine engine tests at industrial sites at various locations in the US, notably in California and Massachusetts.

My plane had taken off around noon time and I was comfortably seated in my isle seat, browsing through a newspaper or the Economist magazine till I got an uncomfortable feeling that something might not be quite right. Then, it flashed through my mind. Oh God, I had not turned off the iron which I had used in the morning to iron a jacket and a pair of pants. So, the iron was sitting on the ironing board and it would continue to be in the on-position till I would return about a week later. And there was little I could do about it. I would not be there to turn it off.

I became panic stricken. I recalled a somewhat similar, but less disastrous, event that had occurred about ten years earlier. I was on the verge of falling asleep in my bed, at a previous residence, also in Mission Valley when in my mind’s eye I saw a coffee pot that had not been turned off. I clearly saw the little red light indicating the coffee pot was on, But I realized then that in due time, the water of the coffee brew would have evaporated and the coffee pot would be standing with the coffee dreg on a red-hot plate. Clearly a hazard that could develop into a fire that would destroy the building in with it was located.

That building was a home that was renovated into a small meeting hall with two adjacent rooms on Adams Ave. in Normal Heights, where the members of the San Diego chapter of a spiritual group would congregate twice weekly, on a Monday and a Thursday night, to participate in a spiritual exercise which lasted anywhere from half an hour to 45 minutes. Thereafter, they would meet for chit-chat in a social room that was offset from the main building by a small patio. That space had a collection of literature and books, a sink, and adjacent counter on which stood the coffee pot and hot plate. Members would hang out for up to an hour after the spiritual session. One member would be responsible for ensuring that all was in good order when everyone else had left, turn off the lights, and lock the access doors to the building. And yes, turn off the coffee pot. It so happened that I was that responsible member at the time.

I knew what I needed to do. I quickly crawled out of bed, put on some clothes, and jumped in the car, making my way to the building. It was close to midnight when I arrived. I opened the door to the building, walked through the two rooms, exited through the backdoor, over the patio and opened up the social room. There was the coffee pot. It was nearly dry. I quickly turned it off and stayed around for a short while to ensure all was as it should be. When my mind was at ease, I locked the access to the building complex and was on my way home. Disaster averted.

Those memories went through my brain when, strapped into my seat on the plane, I was panic-stricken about what to do. A rescue mission similar to that of the coffee pot was not in the cards. What were my options? I had the keys to the apartment with me. There was at the time no key with the security guard for the building. There was an extra set of keys but they were in my office at work. But who could get to my office asap, locate the keys, take them, go to my apartment, open the door, go inside, and turn the iron off.

There I was, thoughts were turning through my head at top speed. Time was of the essence. Most likely there was this hot iron sitting on the iron board. It could fail with time and turn itself off. But it could also stay on and remain a fire hazard for the entire time of my absence. My options were few.

I had a primitive cell phone with me. Contact with the outside world via my cell phone was blocked as long I was up in the air. But I found in front of me a wireless phone from GTE for the convenience of the traveler. You could use your credit card to pay for the calls. I came up with a possible strategy to deal with the pending iron disaster. For the next hour I made expensive use of the GTE phone to work through my problem. In the list of phone numbers that I had with me was the number of security at my place of work and also of the security of my apartment complex.

I dialed the number of work security and explained my situation as clearly as I could. I asked them to give me the home phone number of Jeff Price, a member of the materials department with whom I had worked closely since we both had joined Solar Turbines in the 1990s. I then phoned Jeff and explained the situation to him. He listened patiently, and understood my dilemma. He subsequently drove to our place of work, got access to my office; I believe we didn’t lock the doors. He rummaged through the drawers of my desk, found the keys and made his way to my apartment complex.

I had mentioned the situation to the security guard of my building. Jeff was given access to the building where my apartment was located, opened the door to my apartment, and did what needed to be done. He left me a message: “Rest assured, I turned off the iron. Disaster averted.” I was more than relieved when I got the message upon my arrival at my hotel in Philadelphia.

I think the conference/workshop went normally. No further disasters were on my way.

I flew home after the conclusion of the event. My apartment was as I had left it. The iron was still on the board, but it was in the off position.

When I came back to the office I made my way to thanks Jeff for his timely intervention. “Happy to have prevented a disaster in your apartment complex. And by the way, I hope, you don’t mind but I took a beer from your fridge. A small recompense for my efforts.”

I smiled. I was glad he had done exactly what needed to be done. And I satisfied to have solved this potentially dangerous problem. A few weeks later I paid the bill from GTE that had been charged to my credit card. I believe it was in excess of $90. Well worth given the seriousness of the situation.

I also gave an extra set of keys to my apartment to the security office at my complex. They have been handy on occasions that I was out of town and access to the apartment was needed for inspections.

I have also become very conscious about looking around the apartment whenever I take off, even for a few hours. You never know what dangers lurk when you’re gone.

MvR – December 25, 2025. ✍️