Not only would I be ecstatic that I’m not going to be stuck in the mine until Christmas, as originally predicted, but I’d sure be lobbying to be Miner #2 or #3 out of the hole in the ground. Hell, stuck with me, they’d probably be putting rocket fuel under my capsule to escalate my departure. (she NEVER shuts UP!)
I heard parts of the story this morning on NPR, that they are figuring out who gets to go first, and then there’s some debate and jockeying for who will be last, as that person will hold the record as an individual for the amount of time spent trapped in a mine (or some such record.)
I’d like to think I’d be brave enough to go first. But I don’t know. I just hear the descriptions of this capsule, and it’s long journey – two Empire State Building’s worth of distance – through the tube, and I feel my chest compress and the claustrophobia slithers in from all sides. Because if you’re first, that’s probably when it’s going to jack itself up, if there’s a major flaw in the entire structure. Kaplooey, you’re done for. But once the first one gets out, hey, get the hell out of my way, that capsule is working and see y’all up on top, pops. I wouldn’t give a hoot about any records. I’d also be glad I wasn’t one of the three fellas who had both their wives AND mistresses show up at the mine site, because no matter how glad either one of those ladies is going to be, heads are gonna roooooll.
All in all, these men are all known by their first names in their country, they are heroes, and it’s miraculous they’ve survived this disaster. The lawsuits have already begun, too. It seems like this is yet another industry that is poorly-regulated and allowed to operate unchecked, both abroad and at home. I hope action comes from these tragedies/catastrophes to change and improve the regulation of all these jobs where lives are on the line – oil rigs, miners, etc.. The drive for cheaper, faster, plentiful resources and money, attained from the backs of these people who bend because it’s a job, it’s their livelihood, their options are limited – it makes me crazy, because sitting on top of those backs are the fat cats who profit from their labor, sitting back and calculating how much a disaster would cost them, versus the cost to “do the job right” – money always wins with them, and human life becomes a number, just another line on an actuarial chart. I went off on a rant, there, yes. It’s that Norma Rae creature in me. I wrote a folk song when I was in 4th grade (and performed it in music class!), a dark dirge-like song about the life as a miner. Lots of flats, if I recall correctly. I come by it fair & square, those hippie parents and all the old-timey music.
It’s dark as a dungeon and damp as the dew,
Where danger is double and pleasures are few,
Where the rain never falls and the sun never shines
It’s dark as a dungeon way down in the mines.
~ From “Dark as A Dungeon”, by Merle Travis