Here we are enjoying a lovely lasagna dinner atop Grandpa's houseboat at Lake Powell. About 90 seconds after I took this picture, we started smelling smoke. As we scanned the horizon, we noticed a large plume of grey smoke coming from the other side of the slip. Everyone dropped their forks and took off to see what was going on.
Even this guy was curious.
It turns out, this is what was going on. A houseboat was on fire! It was this poor family's first time on their houseboat. Their whole family drove up from Texas to have a magical week together on the beautiful lake. When they turned on the propane fridge, it exploded.
As we were observing the madness, my brother Michael said, "Uh, this boat is sitting on 200 gallons of gasoline. Perhaps we shouldn't be standing here." Good point!
So we swiftly moved to a safer location down the dock. Everyone except the two pyromaniacs in my family: Dad and David.
After a couple minutes of Rachel freaking out for their safety, Michael went back to convince them to get their arses out of there.... and he didn't come back either. While trying to placate the Little Sis, we moved even further from the potential explosive and waited for the boys.
After what seemed like forever, they finally returned with an explanation of their loitering. They had to make themselves available in case the boat exploded and they had to help pull stunned or dead bodies out of the lake.