Ice Ice Baby

My colleague has an injury, a damaged coccyx from tumbling down the stairs after one too many vinos. This morning, I found a rather dramatic way of putting her and the rest of the office out of their general misery. I shall recount in present time for effect.

At 9am, I receive a parcel from one of my clients. After tearing through the outer brown cardboard, I am presented with a large white box, sealed all the way round with brown gaffer tape. "How exciting!" I think and eagerly take a letter knife to the lid, levering it open to find a box full of ice. Brief thoughts of anthrax and terrorist activity pass through my mind, but I decide that I don't really fit the demographic profile of a "prime target" and therefore, the prize buried under this huge mound of ice, must be worth digging for. But how to get to it? The ice is so cold to the touch that it burns my fingers, so I plod over to the sink, tip the lot in and start running the hot tap… retrieving the treat - a tiny tub of ice-cream - from the bottom of the box before returning to my desk.

Believing my task to be satisfactorily completed, I am somewhat alarmed five minutes later when a fog starts to creep over the kitchen wall partition and leaves a trail like morning mist under my feet as it continues stealthily towards the back of the open plan office and under the MDs feet. At the same time, the office manager starts shrieking from behind the partition - the kitchen sink and pipes have frozen and she is frantically digging the ice back into the box with a spoon. Mental note. This is dry ice and apparently not the same as the stuff that one puts in their gin and tonic with a wedge of lime. It is made of Co2. I look up "dry ice" disposal methods on the internet…"keep in container and leave to sublimate…” (too late!) "don’t touch..." (how do we get it out of the sink then?) and "don't inhale... concentration in excess of 1.5% carbon dioxide may cause death. At higher concentrations, displaces oxygen in air below levels necessary to support life". I look through the haze enveloping the office, envision imprisonment for manslaughter of colleagues and decide that perhaps we should open a window.

"Signs/Symptoms Of Overexposure: At concentrations >1.5%: Hyperventilation/headaches/ dyspnoea/perspiration. At 6-10%: Headaches/dyspnoea/perspiration/tremors/visual disturbances. >10%: Unconsciousness w/out warning. Cryogenic burns".

My colleague says she can't breathe properly. I tell her (hopefully) that maybe it's like the gas they give to women in labour and that it will dull the pain from her damaged coccyx.

Am currently wrestling between the urge to play this at top volume in the office ... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vp-is6S_b_g or keep the necessary low profile.

All together now... "Ice, Ice..."