First thing that came to mind was the two loose-gun situations I've had to immediately exit.

But then I remembered the Egg Incident.
Age 13, home alone with my brother after school. Decided to make a favorite snack: a fried egg. This is all very routine. I'm getting everything ready while simultaneously gabbing on the phone (this is where it all went wrong), I get distracted, and when I turn back to the stove I see oil is doing that shimmery thing— it's overheated. Oops, but no biggie; I go to move the pan. and just as I touch the handle, right at that instant, the whole motherfucking thing lights up. All at once, I'm holding a frying pan full of solid flames, shooting up to the (fairly high!) ceiling. And for some reason, I freak. the fuck. out.

Y'all, I noped so hard that to this day I have no memory of the noping. There was fire right in front of me, and the next thing I remember is standing on the sidewalk outside. Our apartment was on the 2nd floor, with three locked doors between us and outside.

I guess I kind of faintly recall some screaming… presumably that would have been me.

Anyway, my brother heard it all, came out of his room, and did the obvious thing: he put the fucking lid on the pan. Problem solved. Then he hung up the phone and retrieved me off the street. I felt like such a dumbass afterward. I don't know what came over me. It's the only time I've ever panicked, and I panicked so hard. I don't think I'm so good with fire.