Years ago, long before the popularization of the Instant Pot, Eric and I tried out a different kind of pressure cooker. I was familiar with larger varieties from my mother's years of canning preserves from our garden, but this one was smaller, meant to be used for every day cooking.
We had a big garden of our own by then and had probably attended some kind of preparedness meeting at the church where we learned about the device. Our ward did group buys for products like solar ovens, 72-hour kits, and hand crank wheat grinders (for when the electrical grid failed in the last days prior to Jesus's return, of course).
We tried out the pressure cooker by following one of the provided recipes for chicken and rice. I don't know what went wrong, but that lid sealed itself like it was the last thing standing between us and the center of hell. It was terrifying.