A friend posted something on Facebook this morning about peanut butter and banana sandwiches. I suppose they are okay – Elvis supposedly loved them – but I could never bring myself to eat one.
It all goes back to seventh grade at Hamilton Jr. High. My hall locker was immediately above the one assigned to a kid whose mother made him peanut butter and banana sandwiches almost every day. After three or four hours in a ninety degree locker, the oils in the sandwich would combine to form an aromatic ester (Isopentylacetate and/or something else) that smelled like a combination of airplane glue and lacquer. The stuff was undoubtedly flammable, possibly psychedelic, and would knock a buzzard off a gut wagon.
The fumes literally made me sick every time I went to my locker and I finally had to get my locker assignment changed. My new locker was on the bottom row, and not even on the same floor as my home room, but it was worth it.
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