The Chattacon Radioactive Incident
OPEN: JANUS FILE #0070
It was one of those things that hit me by surprise. I just can't believe that it has been 10 years since the Chattacon Radioactive Incident.
I already know what the initial reaction will be for anyone reading this: "WHAT?"
I had better take this one from the beginning. As you probably can tell from my "Currently Reading" choices, and from some prior Janus Files, I am a science fiction fan. I attend a few SF conventions each year, mainly because it's a good way to meet other fen. ("Fen" is the plural of fan.)
One of those conventions is Chattacon. It's held in Chattanooga in January, usually the weekend before the Martin Luther King holiday.
Now, I attended the 1995 Chattacon, when the Radioactive Incident happened. I want to stress that I did not witness this firsthand. I did hear about it from people who did, and it makes for an interesting tale.
It started on the Friday night of the convention. One of the other attendees carried with him a drinking horn made out of a length of PVC pipe. Decorating this drinking horn were several stickers stating, "Warning -- Radioactive," along with the radioactive warning trefoil.
During Friday night's parties, this person had, shall we say, just a little too much to drink. He was a local, and had parked his van in a parking garage across the street. Instead of driving home, or staying in the convention hotel, he decided to sleep it off in his van. But somewhere in the garage, he dropped the drinking horn -- and he didn't realize that he had dropped it.
The next morning, the drinking horn was discovered by someone who was doing some work on a Saturday. This person was a mundane and a lawyer -- in other words, a rather dull unimaginative sort. He saw the radioactive symbol, and immediately took it at face value.
I'm not certain who this lawyer initially called (probably 911), but someone had the bright idea of puttting a Geiger counter (or similar instrument for measuring radioactivity) at the pipe. Guess what? It started clicking. Of course, these people seemed to be ignorant of the fact that most concrete has enough background radioactivity to register on a Geiger counter. And gee, it's not like you would have any difficulty finding concrete in a parking garage, now, is it?
By the time it was all over, there were quite a few groups involved. Chattanooga's police and fire departments. The bomb squad. A hazmat team. I even heard that the Tennessee Valley Authority sent people to deal with the situation. I remember watching the news, and seeing a crane removing the length of pipe from the parking garage, and placing it in a secure container. What I didn't see, but was told, was the parade of flashing lights as a veritable convoy of vehicles escorted the pipe to some undisclosed location, where I am told it was blown up.
At one point during these proceedings, the person who owned the drinking horn awoke. As he started to open the door of his van, he became aware of the activity. At that point, he decided that it was probably a good idea to remain where he was at that time, and closed the door before anyone noticed him.
[I later heard that the authorities wanted to talk to the person who owned the drinking horn. They were even going to provide complimentary transportation to the nearest precinct headquarters, and of course, the shiny steel bracelets they planned on using were merely an added courtesy. They never did find him. As I understand it, it was suggested that he keep a low profile for the rest of the convention.]
As I said, I did not witness the retrieval of this pipe from the garage, except on the news. Others from the convention did, though, and they attempted to inform the police that there was no danger involved, that this was merely a prop from a costume. They were not particularly successful.
The next day, one acquaintance related his attempts to tell the police this was not a danger. The cop's response was, "Sir, please step back. We don't know if this is a danger or not."
My acquaintance said, "That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's not dangerous; it's just a prop."
"Sir, we don't know that. Please step back."
After a few more similarly unsuccessful attempts, my acquaintance walked away (and to hear him tell the tale, he was rather annoyed about the matter). He then struck up a conversation with the crew of one of the fire engines on the scene. The driver of the engine then proved to my acquaintance's satisfaction that Chattanooga's fire department has higher intelligence standards than its police department. The driver angrily threw his helmet into the cab of the engine, and in disgust said, "Damn it! I'm missing the playoffs!"
As I said, they never did find the individual who owned that drinking horn. They either didn't think to question anyone at the convention, they didn't ask the right people, or if anyone who knew him was asked, they weren't telling.
Chattacon did suffer a few repercussions in the aftermath of the Radioactive Incident. The 1996 Chattacon was held in a different hotel (one that I thought was better). And Chattacon's website and publications now state that "Chattacon is a radioactive-free zone." They also pass on a warning from the local fire marshal that falsely labeling something as radioactive is illegal.
CLOSE: JANUS FILE #0070
OPEN: JANUS FILE #0070A
ADDENDUM
For those of you who may be interested, Chattacon's website is:
http://www.chattacon.org
CLOSE: JANUS FILE #0070A
It was one of those things that hit me by surprise. I just can't believe that it has been 10 years since the Chattacon Radioactive Incident.
I already know what the initial reaction will be for anyone reading this: "WHAT?"
I had better take this one from the beginning. As you probably can tell from my "Currently Reading" choices, and from some prior Janus Files, I am a science fiction fan. I attend a few SF conventions each year, mainly because it's a good way to meet other fen. ("Fen" is the plural of fan.)
One of those conventions is Chattacon. It's held in Chattanooga in January, usually the weekend before the Martin Luther King holiday.
Now, I attended the 1995 Chattacon, when the Radioactive Incident happened. I want to stress that I did not witness this firsthand. I did hear about it from people who did, and it makes for an interesting tale.
It started on the Friday night of the convention. One of the other attendees carried with him a drinking horn made out of a length of PVC pipe. Decorating this drinking horn were several stickers stating, "Warning -- Radioactive," along with the radioactive warning trefoil.
During Friday night's parties, this person had, shall we say, just a little too much to drink. He was a local, and had parked his van in a parking garage across the street. Instead of driving home, or staying in the convention hotel, he decided to sleep it off in his van. But somewhere in the garage, he dropped the drinking horn -- and he didn't realize that he had dropped it.
The next morning, the drinking horn was discovered by someone who was doing some work on a Saturday. This person was a mundane and a lawyer -- in other words, a rather dull unimaginative sort. He saw the radioactive symbol, and immediately took it at face value.
I'm not certain who this lawyer initially called (probably 911), but someone had the bright idea of puttting a Geiger counter (or similar instrument for measuring radioactivity) at the pipe. Guess what? It started clicking. Of course, these people seemed to be ignorant of the fact that most concrete has enough background radioactivity to register on a Geiger counter. And gee, it's not like you would have any difficulty finding concrete in a parking garage, now, is it?
By the time it was all over, there were quite a few groups involved. Chattanooga's police and fire departments. The bomb squad. A hazmat team. I even heard that the Tennessee Valley Authority sent people to deal with the situation. I remember watching the news, and seeing a crane removing the length of pipe from the parking garage, and placing it in a secure container. What I didn't see, but was told, was the parade of flashing lights as a veritable convoy of vehicles escorted the pipe to some undisclosed location, where I am told it was blown up.
At one point during these proceedings, the person who owned the drinking horn awoke. As he started to open the door of his van, he became aware of the activity. At that point, he decided that it was probably a good idea to remain where he was at that time, and closed the door before anyone noticed him.
[I later heard that the authorities wanted to talk to the person who owned the drinking horn. They were even going to provide complimentary transportation to the nearest precinct headquarters, and of course, the shiny steel bracelets they planned on using were merely an added courtesy. They never did find him. As I understand it, it was suggested that he keep a low profile for the rest of the convention.]
As I said, I did not witness the retrieval of this pipe from the garage, except on the news. Others from the convention did, though, and they attempted to inform the police that there was no danger involved, that this was merely a prop from a costume. They were not particularly successful.
The next day, one acquaintance related his attempts to tell the police this was not a danger. The cop's response was, "Sir, please step back. We don't know if this is a danger or not."
My acquaintance said, "That's what I'm trying to tell you. It's not dangerous; it's just a prop."
"Sir, we don't know that. Please step back."
After a few more similarly unsuccessful attempts, my acquaintance walked away (and to hear him tell the tale, he was rather annoyed about the matter). He then struck up a conversation with the crew of one of the fire engines on the scene. The driver of the engine then proved to my acquaintance's satisfaction that Chattanooga's fire department has higher intelligence standards than its police department. The driver angrily threw his helmet into the cab of the engine, and in disgust said, "Damn it! I'm missing the playoffs!"
As I said, they never did find the individual who owned that drinking horn. They either didn't think to question anyone at the convention, they didn't ask the right people, or if anyone who knew him was asked, they weren't telling.
Chattacon did suffer a few repercussions in the aftermath of the Radioactive Incident. The 1996 Chattacon was held in a different hotel (one that I thought was better). And Chattacon's website and publications now state that "Chattacon is a radioactive-free zone." They also pass on a warning from the local fire marshal that falsely labeling something as radioactive is illegal.
CLOSE: JANUS FILE #0070
OPEN: JANUS FILE #0070A
ADDENDUM
For those of you who may be interested, Chattacon's website is:
http://www.chattacon.org
CLOSE: JANUS FILE #0070A