I was a research nuclear chemist for 39 years. My specialty was separating specific elements from radioactive mixtures. I sometimes accompanied our physicists to locations where special equipment produced the unusual radioactive species they wanted to study. My role was to do chemical separations that isolated the radioactive species of interest.
We always took our own sophisticated electronics and other equipment needed for these studies. The electronics were carried in well-padded cases that could be checked with our luggage. But we couldn’t check the special detector.
Our detector had to be kept cooled with liquid nitrogen (196 Celsius degrees below zero) at all times during transport and use. The actual detector sat atop an insulated spherical container that held nearly seven gallons of liquid nitrogen, so it was quite large and heavy, with handles on the sides that allowed two people to carry it.
To protect this apparatus, we bought an adjacent airline seat where we kept it strapped in during flights. Because the detector and liquid nitrogen container looked vaguely like a head on a round body, we put a stocking cap on the detector, a properly knotted men’s tie around the “neck” and sunglasses on the “face.” We attached a sign that read, “I’m Hector the Detector.” This produced smiles from many people who neither knew, nor cared, what it actually was.
You must remember that this was more than 50 years ago, before airport security was a major concern. Many of the stewardesses recognized us as frequent travelers, and would joke with us, and even ask if Hector would like something to drink. We sometimes said Hector would like some liquid nitrogen, if they had any.
But on one trip to San Diego, there was a new stewardess whose eyes opened wide when she saw our detector. She asked what it was. We would normally have responded with a wisecrack, but in her case we did not. Her expression showed that she wasn’t convinced by our explanation.
After the plane took off and cabin pressure was reduced – as it always is during a flight – the liquid nitrogen vaporized more quickly than normal under the reduced pressure. The surge of cold nitrogen gas created a cloud of visible condensate, much as our breath does on a cold day.
The new stewardess was clearly terrified when she saw what she thought was smoke, and she ran up to tell the captain there was a bomb on board. One of the flight crew came back to check, and was satisfied with our explanation, so the immediate crisis was averted. However, the new stewardess avoided talking to us, or even looking in our direction, for the rest of the flight.
That was a long time ago and much has changed since then. If we tried to take Hector into an airport now, I suspect the airport would be quickly evacuated and we would be arrested. How different from his ability to elicit smiles and charm stewardesses, 50 years ago.
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