Is The Plural of Doofus Doofi?

The Old Man has had a number of moments of extreme doofus-ness through out his life. We all have, I suppose. When I look back, I think, "I did THAT?". "What was I thinking?". Most of my doofusonian exploits were in the company of fellow doofi. There always seemed to be some one among whatever group I happened to be a part of at the time who would give words to a brain fart and we would be off on another adventure. One of the oddest was the series of caving experiences.


The Virginia foothills around Roanoke are home to a number of caves. Caverns, actually. One has long been developed into a tourist attraction. The Happy Doofi Caving Company, however, would have no part of such commercialism. Oh, no, no, no. We chose to head out into the surrounding countryside and explore one known locally as Murderers' Hole. Now, any clear-thinking non-doofus would catch a clue from the name. But not us.

We cobbled together what passed for some gear. Army surplus helmet liners were painted white and became our hard hats. Someone came upon several carbide lanterns. You filled the canister with carbide granules and added water. This created acetylene gas which bubbled up through a little orifice. You then lit the gas and got a small flame in front of a reflector. They worked pretty well as I recall. Miners used them for many years. Thus armed and equipped, off we went.
You got into Murderer's Hole through a small round opening in the ground. The small opening was at the bottom of a large pit, much like a rock quarry. Once you were in, you could stand up and look around. Pretty unbelievable, actually. The limestone formations from both the floor and the ceilings, stalactite's and stalagmites.....I could never keep straight which is which, were all around. There were passages, dark and, of course, very inviting to a doofus. Other than being down there in the first place, the second attack of doofusism came when we all extinguished our carbide lanterns to experience true darkness. Cave darkness is difficult to imagine. It is a total and complete absence of any light whatsoever. The closest description I can muster is that it must have been that dark before the universe was formed. The Happy Doofi Caving Company never acknowledged the thought of what we would have done had none of the lanterns started up again. Not only were there passages to blackness, but deep black holes and fissures, all waiting to enjoy doofus for breakfast.


As we worked our way through the cave, we came upon what was called a "slide"; a ramp down to a deeper level sitting at about a 30 degree angle. The slide was coated with an odd smelling mud. As I was roping down, about half way, I lost my footing and my hand hold on the rope. I slid the rest of the way down on my sitter.


When I reached the bottom, much to the delight of my fellow doofi, I mentioned that that was the worse smelling mud I'd ever seen. The head doofi who had been there before explained. "That's because it isn't all mud. Look up." The ceiling was where the bats were. Thousands of them. Through the years, I think some of them had developed digestive problems. One thing about bats; they have no need for Myrilax.


I was a pretty sad sight, 200 feet underground, covered with a mixture of mud and bat ............stuff. By corporate vote of the Happy Doofi Caving Company, I brought up the rear on our exit from the cave.


I haven't been in a cave since. But I must confess; I kind of miss that little "pop" when a carbide lantern lights.