By the time I reached the power panel I was engulfed in propane, I could barely see my hand in front of my face. Why the propane didn’t cause me to pass out will always be a mystery. After killing the sub-station I ran in the direction of the offending tank. In the fog I had trouble finding the stairs to the top of the tanks. Finally, I found them and raced to the top. The only way to relieve the pressure was to open another tank, however, because of the great pressure exerted on all the valves, I couldn’t budge the valves. I ran from one valve to another, until at long last a valve opened, and the propane roar subsided. I opened three more tanks, then returned to the office to call the Foreman.

The Foreman lived on the property and was there shortly. He and I stood outside, helpless, and stared at the cloud of propane. Then suddenly a breeze kicked up, and within minutes the cloud dissipated.

Mornings examination of the tank concluded that the gauge had stuck at 50%.

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