I lived in a 19th century house in San Francisco that had gorgeous plaster work medallions on the ceilings - think cherubs and fruits - in the middle of which were the light fixtures. One day my dumb-ass flatmate made an ill-advised attempt to DIY his light fixture and cracked the still-active gas line embedded in the ceiling. Sometime in the 1920s - the date was printed on a sticker in the electrical panel - when they electrified the house, they'd wrapped the electrical wires around the gas pipes, and left them otherwise in situ. Crazy stuff.