“Hey, I can’t even see your face!”
It would be a statement that would have dual meaning and make us both laugh our heads off since before the two of us got trapped down here in this collapsed cave and there was no light with which to see each other’s faces…well, I couldn’t see your face anyway.
Since you were “that miner” who wore a ski-mask all the time.
Your reasons for wearing a ski-mask all the time would probably only make sense to someone who was halfway through reaching their goal of drinking 24 beers in a four hour period. To the others (including me) we would find the fact that you wore a ski-mask at all times to be a strange and awkward choice. Sure, you’d rattle off reasons for wearing one all the time like keeping your skin blemish free and hidden from the harmful UV rays of the sun. You’d mention something about that facial tick you were born with and how you didn’t want to subject your co-workers to such a distracting thing. You might even tell everyone that one day while fooling around in your Grandad’s closet you had found the strange wool ski-mask, put it on, and felt more at home than ever before.
Most of us would just think you were weird.
Primarily, of course, this would be due to the fact that you were a miner. Someone who worked in the darkness most of the time, travelling miles below the Earth’s surface to hammer away at precious metals and bring them back up to the “topside” (which is what we’d call “the top” among us professional miner folk). Sure, the black soot on our faces had to be washed off each night when we returned home, but was wearing a wool ski-mask really worth having to not do “the scrub” (which is what we’d call “scrubbing with soap” among us professional miner folk).
But it would be a dark dark day when you and I got trapped in a cave that had collapsed around us, leaving us with a small ten by ten space in which to wait until we were rescued.
“Hey, I can’t even see your face,” I’d say again, now with a nervous laugh behind it. “Why don’t you go ahead and take off the ski-mask?”
“It’s off,” you’d say… And it would still be left on without me even knowing it was still left on because it would be pitch black, our “headlights” (which is what we’d call the lights on our heads among us professional miner folk) would have gone out, and there would be no way for me to know for sure if you really had taken off that ski-mask even though you said you already took off the ski-mask but if you’d never taken off that damn ski-mask in all the years we’d worked together then why would this frenetic moment be any different?
“You really didn’t take off your ski-mask even though you said you took off your ski-mask, isn’t that true?” I’d say. Of course, knowing you, you’d say something like, “Well, this is a pretty serious situation and if me taking off my ski-mask will put you at ease, I’m happy to take off my ski-mask.” And then I’d say something like, “Okay, if it’s off — hand it to me. Let me feel it in my hands. Give it to me.”
“Eh, can’t help you there, pal,” you’d say, and then go move over to the two by two corner of our ten by ten collapsed cave area (or “mini-cavern” as we’d call the mini-portion of the cave we were trapped in, among us proffesional miner folk) and give me the distinct feeling that you still hadn’t taken that damn ski-mask off even though we were trapped in a collapsed cave, with a potential of dying.
What a stubborn ski-mask wearing miner trapped in a collapsed cave you would be.
Although now that I’m really thinking about it, if I really was trapped in a collapsed cave with a miner who wore a ski-mask all the time, there would be some benefits. For example, as the air started to disappear and it became tougher for us to breathe and our eyes had gotten used to the darkness and we were sort of able to make out each other’s faces… At that moment, when the fear fully enveloped the two of us, it would be nice to not have to see the fear on your face. Since you’d be wearing a ski-mask. And that would probably make me less scared because all I’d see is an emotionless ski-mask staring back at me and I’d think, “You know what? Being trapped in a collapsed cave with very little air and the potential to die in the next thirty-two minutes isn’t as scary as I thought.”
Also, being trapped in a bank that was currently being robbed by men in ski-masks with YOU, my friend who always wore a ski-mask to work… Well, that would be a pretty unique and helpful situation as well, since as you were laying down next to me on the floor while the rest of the robbers went about their business… Well, you could potentially pretend to be one of the robbers and thwart the whole crime.
And if you were taking an acting class with me on how to get voice over work in those CGI animated movies… Your method (while wearing a ski-mask) would probably be really helpful along with your philosophy that, “It’s not about using your facial expressions… It’s about projecting emotion within your voice that will get you the part of the wacky squirrel sidekick.”
So basically. You, wearing a ski-mask all the time would have its advantages.
That’s probably what I’d think about while we were trapped together in a collapsed pitch black cave miles beneath the Earth’s surface.
I think it would probably make me less freaked out and happier about the unique experience.