I once lived in a wretched old apartment with a wretched old gas stove that had the broiler beneath the oven. It was the kind of broiler you had to light with a match. I decided to grill a couple of burgers even though the broiler didn’t look too functional. The grease from the burgers started a fire in the broiler. Instead of turning off the gas, I opened the broiler door with a potholder (duh!). When the air hit it, the flame leapt up and singed my bangs. My face did not get burned only by the grace of God.
I have also learned that it is best not to slice cheese in the direction of your hand. Five stitches.