Tom Ruprecht, In Too Deep
| Tom Ruprecht | In Too Deep |
TOM RUPRECHT is the author of the book George W. Bush: An Unauthorized Oral History (2007) and was a writer for the television show Late Night with David Letterman. With Craig Finn, from the band the Hold Steady, he co-wrote a film adaptation of Fargo Rock City based on the book by Chuck Klosterman. His writing has also appeared in periodicals, including the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times Magazine, where “In Too Deep” appeared in 2011.
Throughout the reading selection, Ruprecht refers to events that readers of the New York Times Magazine in 2011 would probably have been aware of: that Osama Bin Laden was assumed to have taken refuge in a cave following the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan in 2001; that Aron Ralston amputated his own arm to escape a half-ton boulder pinning him to a canyon wall (an event that was depicted in the 2010 film 127 Hours, starring James Franco); that the 2010 rescue of thirty-three Chilean miners trapped underground for six weeks was greeted with worldwide jubilation.
As you read, consider Ruprecht’s use of current events:
- What effect would the references to these events have had on his original audience when this article was published in 2011?
- What effect do these references have on you now?
1It’s impossible to look cool when you’re part of a tour group. Instead of bravely exploring on your own, you’ve chosen to be led around like a frightened kindergartner. My wife and I were on a tour bus while in Hawaii recently, and our guide made me feel even more uncool because he was very rugged and handsome. After a couple of hours, he announced we were stopping for what he called “snack break,” as if we actually were kindergartners. He then mentioned that down a nearby path there was a cave we could check out. Not being a terrorist mastermind, I’ve never had a huge desire to hang out in a cave. But the opinion of absolute strangers means a lot to me, and I was desperate to differentiate myself from the other travelers in this cool, rugged guide’s eyes.
2“I’m going to the cave,” I declared and marched down the path to check out its mouth. The mouth. That’s as far as I was willing to go.
3When I arrived, I found another guy from the group standing there.
4“Hey, I’m Ernie. I’m a spelunker.”
5Ernie said he was going to take a quick look in the cave and invited me to come along. I politely declined. He insisted. I thought of my dad, who has encouraged me to say “yes!” to every opportunity while traveling. During a trip to Puerto Rico in the ’70s, it was this carpe diem spirit that led my dad to play tennis all week long with the adult-film star Harry Reems—the same Harry Reems who was in Deep Throat (not that you recognized the name, dear reader), though true aficionados prefer his later work, in films like For Your Thighs Only. So I entered the mouth of the cave.
6Thirty feet in, I began telling Ernie we should probably head back. But he simply rushed ahead, and because he had the flashlight, I had no choice but to follow. I soon found myself slithering through tight spaces in order to get to slightly tighter places. I panicked. It was only a matter of time before I would be wedged between rocks. I began looking around for a knife, so I could pre-emptively chop off my arm like James Franco in that movie I was too scared to see.
7Things Ernie did made me question his spelunking expertise. For instance, there was a weird greenish-whitish substance on the cave’s roof. “That’s probably sodium,” Ernie said, and he swabbed a finger on the slimy substance and stuck it in his mouth. He muttered, “That’s not sodium.” I believe it was Ernie’s pride that kept him from adding, “I think it’s bat guano.”
8We were a good mile inside the cave when Ernie looked at me, gave a little laugh and then turned off the flashlight. A mile deep in the cave. “Scared?” he whispered. Then he chuckled, turned the flashlight back on and said, “Nah, the thing you should really be worried about is what would happen if there were an earthquake right now.” Seeing my terrified expression, Ernie said, “Oh, hadn’t you thought about that?” I had to get out of there. People were waiting for us. More important, my wife was above ground chatting with a ruggedly handsome tour guide. I implored Ernie to turn back. He reluctantly agreed. On the way, we came upon a fork in the cave. I asked if we should go to the right or the left. Ernie, the great spelunker, replied: “Oh, I have a terrible sense of direction.” So Ernie had me choose. I, of course, picked the wrong way. We wandered aimlessly for 10 minutes, wondering if we were passing the same generic rocks we passed on the way in or if we were passing slightly different generic rocks. If only there had been a spelunker there, I would have asked him.
9Eventually Ernie’s spelunking expertise did kick in. He realized we were headed down the wrong path. We doubled back, took the other path and, finally, saw a sliver of sunlight. I popped out of the cave, expecting a welcome worthy of a Chilean miner. Instead I was greeted by 11 annoyed people whose trip Ernie and I had hindered. As my wife hugged me, she whispered, “People are kinda mad.”
10The guide reprimanded us for endangering our lives and delaying the others. But as we started back to the bus, he pulled Ernie and me aside and said in a low voice, “Don’t tell anybody, but I think what you guys did was seriously kick-ass!” The rest of the day I walked around with a happy smile, like the proudest little kindergartner you’ve ever seen.