Tuesday in Taiwan, a man grieving over the death of his girlfriend, decided to climb into the morgue freezer with her. Good sweet shit, what the hell is wrong with people? As if it wouldn’t be claustrophobic enough in there just by yourself, imagine halving that space. And further, being in there with a dead body. Bllllrrrr… Screw that.
I’m not really creeped out by death that much. I’ve been exposed to my share of it. But I don’t really like touching cadavers if I don’t have to. And I’ve had to before, which might explain why I don’t like to anymore. Okay, so back to the point… I’ve seen that movie The Jacket where The Pianist gets stuck in a meat locker in a straight jacket-type thing. Talk about some mother effing claustrophobia. Sweet Elephant, no thank you.
I guess this guy took some drugs or something, hoping he’d Romeo it up with her in there. Here’s the article, if you’re interested.
I think the most horrifying experience I’ve had with a confined space was when I was a child. My friend Jonathon and I took turns climbing into a cedar chest just to see what a coffin would kind of be like. And of course when I got in, he sat on top of it and wouldn’t let me out for like a minute. Which to a child in a confined space feels like an hour. And running through my mind was the obvious future where he would sit there for the next six weeks without leaving, and I would die in there. Then sixty seconds later, he got up and I got out and proceeded to – well, I don’t think I did anything, but I should have beat his ass for him. I think this did precipitate the deterioration of our friendship. I finally did end up fighting him, and after all those snap-kicks to his groin area, I’m surprised he was eventually able to end up having children.
I also used to climb inside the fuel tanks of B1s when I was in the service. This only lasted about a year, and every minute of it sucked as much dick as you can imagine. The problem with B1 fuel tanks is that – well, not all of them – some of the tanks are giant. Others are so confined that you feel like you’re in a child’s coffin. Add to this the respirator hose you have to drag in with you (you’re wearing a full face mask), the light you’re dragging in with you (it’s not wireless), and the tool bag, then the fact that most of it is in weird angles and between braces where you’re on your side, dragging yourself with one arm… Wow, that was a long sentence. But it does illustrate the shittiness metaphorically. Now, let me make it worse for you. Yes it’s dark, smells like fuel, is wet, very (very) confined and hard to move through… But yes, it does get worse.
The inboard tanks on the B1 bombers, just like the fuselage, are crafted from the finest titanium the government can buy. Well I don’t know if there are different qualities of the shit, but titanium is titanium. And the point is that it’s expensive as a mother cobbler. And if you get stuck, they ain’t gonna cut into it to get your ass out. They’ll just break your bones and let you slip out like jello. This is no lie. Think about it. It’s a lot cheaper for them to send you to the military hospital and let a military doctor put military casts on your ass. What’s that cost, a hundred bucks? As opposed to destroying a 40-million-dollar aircraft? Uh huh. Screw that.
So yeah, I don’t really like tight confined spaces. Well, there are a couple I can think of that I’m okay with, wink wink.