The Guadalajara Street Disaster of 1992 | Episode 50

This episode stinks, and I'm not creating any spoilers, but if it looks like a duck, and it smells like a duck, and it's highly flammable like a duck, olah and welcome to Doomsday, History's most dangerous podcast. Together, we're going to rediscover some of the most traumatic, bizarre, and i'm inspiring, but largely unheard of or forgotten disasters from throughout human history and around the world. On today's episode, we're going to investigate some smells that rank up there with futurifying corpses. We'll talk about some limbs that started acting more like meat filled wind socks, and we'll visit the underworld and face something more dangerous than your gaiters or more locks or chuds. This is not the show you play around kids, or while eating or even a mixed company button. As long as you find yourself a little more historically engaged and learn something I could potentially save your life, our work is done. So of all that said, shoot the kids out of the room, put on your headphones and safety glasses, and let's begin. That's right, ladies and gentlemen, bring your appetite, your sunscreen, and your dancing shoes. We are heading to Mexico, an incredible and diverse land and home to some of the friendliest, most helpful people you'll ever meet. And we've never been here. Even though Mexico's had more than its fair share of disasters earthquakes, wildfires, droughts, floods, you name it, but today's disaster it's going to have more of a subterranean flavor. Did you know that Mexico City is sinking? It's true. It's been making its way to the Earth's core and won't stop for at least another one hundred and fifty years. Why you ask, Well, sit at my apron, dear listeners, and I will tell you a tale. If you take a peek at the Mexican national coat of arms on the flag, you're going to notice an eagle sitting on a cactus, chowing down on a snake. Ancient prophecy had it that wherever an eagle was spotted eating a snake on a cactus, the greatest city the world had ever known would be built. And lo and behold, someone did in the Onowak Valley, on a swampy little island on Lake Texcoco. For years, the original Mexican people filled the swamp and developed the area until it became Mexico. Tenno te chidlong. I can't vouch for that pronunciation, but I can't tell you. This was the biggest city in the entire medieval world, and it was also the capital of the Aztec Empire. In the Marble universe, these people took to the sea and became the Atlanteans. But in our home universe, the Spanish arrived, killed as many as I could, and paved over everything else. One thing they didn't change was the name. It's like if I stole my neighbor Mike's house, killed Moosto's family, and then sent a packing but I kept calling at Mike's house. The city was five times as big as London at the time, and that was before the Spanish got there. And very long technical story short. They needed to drink everybody does, and they ended up draining the groundwater way faster than it could be replenished, and as a result, the land is compacting and sinking beneath them. Some areas under Mexico City sink almost two feet a year. That causes buildings above and sewers and waterlines below the ground of fracture and slum. By the time it slows, parts of the city will be almost ten stories below the other parts. Entire neighborhoods will become part of the mole people kingdom, while those who love above, who I imagine will call them overrolders, and they're going to look down and all the pit people with disdain and constantly wearing bags of garbage from up above. And not just Mexico, cities around the world all sink for different reasons. New Orleans, Venice, Jakarta, Lagos, Dhaka, Rotterdam. They're all thinking why Because the world beneath our feet can be as dangerous as the above ground world. Okay, but worry not, my dear listeners. I'll off my apron by go. We're not heading to Mexico City. We're traveling somewhere where the ground is a little less threatening and screw flying. After the last episode, We'll take a bus about seven hours west. We're heading to Guadalajara, Mexico's second largest city. When you think Mexico, you think of mariachi music and the food tequila. And if you're looking for their cultural birth certificates, you're going to find Guadalajara stamped on a lot of it. It's always been kind of a nursery for historic and cultural Mexican exports, and people describe it as the most Mexican of all cities. And if you're the kind of traveler wants to do and see it all while fighting with your liver. I'm told Guadalahara is also surrounded by fields of blue agavee that produce the world's purest tequila. But we're not here just a drunken and stumble around, and certainly not during Holy Week. What's how you ask, though, that's going to be ten Hail Mary's. It's Holy Week. It's one of the most important religious events in the entire Mexican calendar. It's an annual celebration slash observants slash recreation of Jesus's betrayal and crucifixion and resurrection, marked by processionals of ceremonial banners and floats, while musicians, drummers and Jesus impersonators parade wooden crucifixes through the streets. It happens every year between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday. But you're not going to find any bunnies or chocolate eggs. Around here, Mexico and the Holy Week in particular adhere to some pretty old timey Spanish Catholic traditions. Worshippers and what we can only really call multicolored plan robes carry floats with statues and effigies of pious looking saints, including the Virgin Mary, who dresses Paul in black for the occasion. The floats are so thick with ornamentation they can take dozens of people to carry, stopping at various churches and religious sights along the way. Just picture a week of joy and crying, with food and music and occasional light whipping and some wafting incense. But that wasn't the only thing wafting. We're visiting in late April nineteen seventy two, and boy, isn't hot. Like put your pillows and sheets in the freezer before you try to sleep, kind of uncomfortably warm. Gualahara was a city of over three million people, and it takes an awful lot of cooking smells and incense to cover up the baseline stink of a modern urban city. Even my hometown of Toronto sometimes smells like somebody taught a diaper I throw up. Cities, by their very design, have this really bad habit of collecting and trapping smells from exhaust and garbage and gasoline, dust, farts, you name it, and it all gets bound together by the heat humidity, which there is plenty of. I could go on for the next forty five minutes about how cities basically act like a kind of open air oven slash bacterial incubator. But let's cut to the chase. Let me ask you this, what's the grossest thing you've ever smelled? I once visited New York City in August during a garbage strike, and if my nostrils could have barfed, they would have projectile vomited. But there is worse. Do you ever smell a putrefying corpse? That's pretty thankless. The fatty acids in the body putrify into something called putrescine, and that's what you're smelling. It pairs well with toxic gases and microscopic compounds. You ever hear of ethelmer captain? Ethylmerc captain smells so bad you can find it in the Guinness Book of World Records. It's the stuff they add to propane to make sure you know in the event of a gas leak. But I just have to smell so bad. Well, it's because people, they suck, and you just don't have time to educate the entire population to now think that blueberry bubblegum is the new scent of impenting death. So they just go with something unmistakably bad and repulsive to drive people away to safety. Thioacetone is another one. Imagine garlic, sulfur, burnt rubber, and rotting eggs all in a battle royale to make a puke. This world is full of regrettable and intolerable smells, and today we're going to concentrate on a reasonably common one, gas a lane. And you might be thinking, but I like the smell of gas. You know what, You're all kay, You're all right. You may have just had a good childhood. I'll back up and explain. Our sense of smell is called our old factory sense, and it connects to the hippocampus and the amygdala in your brain, which also control your memory and your emotions. So if you spent your summer sniffing gas, you know, maybe on road trips, maybe boat rides, lawn bowers, whatever gets you off, that smell can conjure positive emotions from left time spent around it. There are one hundred and fifty different chemicals in gas, and people use it as a kind of low brow inhalent to get light headed and hallucinate and wreck their central nervous system. But it's also carcinogenic, so it's just best to take a whiff and move on. Our story takes place the twenty second of April, a Wednesday, and on top of it being Holy Week hump Day, it was also market day in Guadalajara's Reforma district. The streets were packed with shoppers and pedestrians. There's no way you're going to find a parking spot anywhere. On market day. People scurried through traffic. They filled the sidewalks, passing from store to store. And what did they all have in common? Well, people from all around the world call Mexo home. Makes it very diverse. It even has sixty two different indigenous groups. But the one expression found on every single person in that area stink face. It had been this way for a few days. Every morning people woke up, opened their windows and said just a little louder. With each new passing day, and what they were reacting to was the strong odor of gasoline that permeated everything. But it seemed to be coming from the pipes and taps and drains and toilets, basically anywhere that connected to the sewers, And it took a few days for the locals to even get city workers to come out to get a nose full and an earful. The citizens complained that the water in their homes have been replaced by something that looked and smelled more like gasoline. They were too afraid to bathe, their play candle toss, and they were too nauseous to sleep. Others told about drain covers rattling, and even plumes of white smoke trailing from the sewers. All that gasmell wasn't triggering any positive emotions here. You know, I have people tell me that they listen to their kids, which I love to hear, and I don't really swear on the show. So I'm going to say that the sewer system is much more than some Pea and Pooh water park ke Pooh or is it Pooh and keywater park? It's a fecal matter aquatic play park. Let's say that either way trademark pending. So listen up, kids, your fecal matter is not alone down there beneath the streets. And I can feel your parents clenching up because they don't know what I'm about to say. But what you find down there not ratsn gaiters, not more locks, nut shuts. I was going to say, in structure, and lots of pipes, pipes for electricity, pipes for gas, pipes for phone lines, pipes for water. They connect the people to every service imaginable. Anyway, whatever was going on, even though these sewers could be as much as thirty feet below the ground, all eyes were pointing there. City workers, sewer system workers, firemen, and all sorts of others had swept the area. And when the locals pressed for answers, do you think they were told that they'd found a concerning build up of something gas like in the sewers beneath their feet, or do you think it was more like the problem is under control and there is nothing to worry about. The Intermunicipal Potable Water and Sewage System Authority will just call them the SIAPA for short. They stepped up, evacuated the area, and flushed the sewers, discovering the source of the problem, fixed it, and everyone lived happily ever after, except for the part where none of that happened. Siyappa did not have the authority to evacuate any areas that was way above their paygrade, and all the authorities above them were too busy playing I think this one's on you to do anything about it themselves. They couldn't even agree what was in the water samples, water being set in quotes for emphasis. Most figured that gasoline was at play here. Somehow engineers from Mexico's state owned petroleum Company MX agreed that it was gas and they would know, but they said it had nothing to do with them. The chief of fire services was Trinidad Lopez, and he thought the samples smelled more like hydrocarbons. You could find them at crude oil. They're superflammable and they smell like gas or lighter fluid. So basically everyone shouted not it. So the whole issue fell on the Mayor's desk. But this could not have happened at a worse time, halfway through Holy Week. Holy Week draws millions of visitors every year, and Mayor Enrique Flores really was not looking to make a big stink out of this. He was Sophie's choice between forcing a smelly impression on visitors from around the world, which could be cheap now but expensive later, versus cutting the whole system down and evacuating the area, which would have been unimaginably expensive right away. Either way, this would have caused shit to full auto itself into a fan for any number of politicians who were way more comfortable starting a commission on the problem than acting. Anything they did was going to effect a huge number of people. I mean it already technically did. Exposure to the fumes made people nauseous. It stung eyes, created headaches and sore throats from coughing or arfing, but the authorities continued to cultivate a real chill no worries vibe around the situation. Chief Lopez even appeared on the radio Morning Zoo to assure citizens, saying things like, hey, did you know throwing up or passing out from exposure to gas fumes is considered good luck? You know that kind of spin And in his words, whatever it was was gone. The sewers had been flushed and there was zero explosiveness in them now. Understand this was the first time somebody had said the word explosive, but he really want people to ignore that and just concentrate on acting calm. So Wednesday, very early on market day, and the traders and locals and tourists thronged the streets and everything was business as usual until ten oh five am began with a rumble in the street. For the first microsecond, energy would have glowed bright from every possible gap or entrance to the sewer. The roadway ripped and split as an ever expanding bubble of force lifted, dismantled, and threw everything out of its way, no matter what sat on top people, cars, buildings. There was no forcing this genie back in the bottle, And in the span of an eyeblank, thousands and thousands of pounds of explosive force birthed its way into the world above. And when I say powerful, I mean powerful enough to throw multi ton trucks and buses onto the roofs of surrounding buildings like they were toys. Entire buildings on both sides of the street and beyond were blown in and reduced. Piles of pulverized concrete and twisted metal by the blast, Homes and businesses collapsed in on themselves, killing and injuring thousands with no warning. And you know what, you wouldn't want to see a piece of paved roadway of any size flying right at you, or a car for that matter. Actually, when you really think about it, it's much quicker just to say that anything denser than a pie could become extremely dangerous when delivered with enough force. And I really want you to understand the power of this thing. So let's leave Guadalajara for just a minute to head to Halifax in Nova Scotia, Canada. The Halifax explosion of nineteen seventeen was horrible. It was the biggest non nuclear explosion in history. A long story short. Two ships carrying explosives collided in a harbor, caught fire, and then blew up. And what pushed Halifax into that top shelf blue ribbon tier of explosivity was how the ships in the harbor blasted out in all directions, but the force pressing down met the harbor floor, which wasn't going anywhere, bounced, hit reverse, and amplified the explosion up. The explosion erupting from the sewer had this same awful problem. Can't go down, can't go left or right through the walls. The only options were sideways down the tunnel, which were bent and curved to prevent this easy flow, and a lot of the force just went up. Anyone who survived without being blown into a neighboring district wouldn't recognize anything. A smoky, dusty cloud massed everything. Imagine coming to and seeing a rubble filled scar where your street used to be. Telephone, electricity, and water services had also been destroyed. Immediately, and without a thought for their own safety, ordinary people began digging looking for survivors, and I remind you most of these people were already injured themselves. Human chains and bucket brigades removed debris, and hundreds would come to a complete silence if any sign of light had been discovered from below. Victims were found in a range of conditions, from barely coherent to actively engulfed. In the most elaborate agonies. People were recovered with missing limbs, limbs see the wrong way, limbs that acted like meat filled wind socks, and because of the body's inability to absorb a building's worth of collapse, many suffered limb neck and spinal injuries that made removing them that much more urgent and dicey. Many needed urgent evacuation before they bled to death, and that might mean some pretty well meaning tourniquetting and amputation by force. People were rushed to emergency services by every means necessary, from being firemen, carried in a kind of diy papoose by strangers to one woman who was brought to the hospital in a hearse and the driver apologized repeatedly. Hundreds required immediate medical attention, but I'm happy to say that the worst of it was over, Lessons were learned, and life returned to normal in Guadalajara in fairly short order. I am obviously kidding. Over the next four hours, the entire district would be rocked by at least a dozen and as many as thirty more explosions, depending on who you ask. And I don't mean follow up after shocks either. I am talking about equally powerful, if not much larger, explosions, each destroying some random street through the neighborhood with no warning or pattern. It was pure chaos. Buildings fell while vehicles flew, and I do mean flu I remember years ago a moron in the next town over spray painted swastikas all over his house and sabotaged his furnace, and some kind of racist insurance scam that one house exploding has nothing on a sewer full of volatile fumes. Still, that blast flattened seven other homes, and the roof landed on a highway about a half a mile from his house. I tell you this to say it's really difficult to convey just how powerful an explosion can be. The best guests compared the force of the explosions to a ten ton bomb. That's the same explosive power as just over twenty one million pounds of TNT. The blast wave left craters fifty meters or one hundred feet in width and defeat deep. And it also pump out about a thousand psi of over pressure. And we've talked about over pressure before and without getting into it, that level of pressure hitting the body could pop ears and lungs and definitely some internal bleeding and definitely some brain trauma. Rio Bravo Street, Rio Negro Street, Gonzalez, Gaillo Street, and Gante Street were all blown out, with buildings collapsing as much as a half mile away. The survivors in these areas were too terrified to run, And I get it if you were in a minefield. Frankly, you could do worse than hunkering down in an existing crater. You just want to stay somewhere that's already exploded. And with each new blast, the affected area grew and the rescue work became increasingly complicated. More than seven hundred rescue workers joined the thousands of ordinary citizens, police and firefighters. Even the army and trained cadaver dogs have been brought in. So you head out to smoke a fat Mexican cigar while watching a piano teacher dressed like Jesus get whipped in the but the manholes start dancing, would you know what to do? Not all gas explosions sneak up on you. That's kind of the thing about gas build ups. They're really kind of hard to ignore because gas stinks. Like we said, But let's assume you blew your nose off on some earlier episode and couldn't tell a fart from fromage. Well, let's walk through it. Telling you how to protect yourself during an explosion would be less instructive and wishful thinking. For all the good it would do. So the best thing that I can do to help you is be prepared with a few preventative measures. And let me start by saying the chances of this ever happening to you are pretty small, but that said, it still does happen. If you ever smell gas or suspect gas leaking in or around your home, bounce, evacuate immediately. There's no sense waiting. You're gonna want to call nine one one, but let's go do somewhere else. For one, you're not getting any smarter standing in a gas field area. And second, electronic devices or light switches can and have created sparks that turn homes back into lumber and brick. Now, if you were ever surprised by a sudden alert to evacuate, you're gonna want a few things with you. First, a really prepped bugout bag. And so you know, I hate when people say that my current prep fur an evacuation is to throw a chair through my window and then live in my car. What I should do is throw a bag containing duplicate beds, my ID, my insurance papers, cell chargers, and even a battery or hand crank radio so you can keep up to date with news, all the kind of things you'd bring with you on purpose if you were given a week to prepare. But we're not all there, so do not feel bad. Most people just use their nose for gas detection. But like all good jobs, the great robot outsourcing has begun, and a simple but obvious piece of advice is to make sure that you have working smoke and COO two detectors wherever gas is used, kitchen garage, round your furnace. If you're ever worried about a smell of vibration or a funny manhole, anything, really, the fire department is your first line of defense against any janki subjec Rainian stuff. They have all the equipment to test for all kinds of potential leaks, and more importantly, if your neighborhood was getting all smoky or newsworthy and it required even more attention, the fire department has everybody you could possibly need on speed dial. As far as your appliances go, keep them maintained and inspected. You should probably figure out where your gas shutoff valve is too. They even going to jot that one day for myself. Another thing is to keep an eye out for construction or maintenance work in the area, especially once that dig. They're supposed to post warning signs in near underground utility areas where flammable or hazardous materials might be in play. Had a bunch of these guys here over the spring, and let me just say, judging from what I saw, I wouldn't have trusted these guys to feed my cat. And in this weird age of ours, they also suggest to see something, say something rap. If you see people fussing with a manhole cover, go full Cairn on them. You wouldn't think of the sewers under your street and terrorism in the same sentence. But that's how the terrorists win. But as a parting thought, you are one point eight three million times more likely to be killed by your local utility company than a terrorist. You'll remember from past building collapse episodes. Imagine your penned under a wall and some two hundred pounds would be first responder stands on it, asking if you're okay, can't you be better without all that extra weight on you? For sure? Well? Alldozers start around eight thousand pounds and they were brought in to make space further heavy equipment to lift away heavy debresan walls, but some vocals ended up laying down in front of the bulldozers to try to protect the unknown survivors trapped in the rubble below. People were engaged in every kind of rescue, not to mention evacuating the surrounding areas while being on high alert for gas, stank or rattling manholes, and just like in a minefield, they prayed they were standing in a good spot. Satellite images of the area made it look like it had been lasered from space. TV images from ground level made it look like a Middle Eastern war zone area. Hospitals and medical centers were overwhelmed, but field hospitals were being set up and thousands more lined up to donate blood and plasma. Sports stadiums and the state university were open to the newly homeless to provide emergency housing, and a local gymnasium was turned into a morgue. Outside a sign read what you were about to see is very painful. While we are here to help you in any way we can, So what the hell happened? Well, good thing you're wearing safety glasses because fingers were pointing everywhere. Pemex owned and operated a nearby oil refinery. Oil refinery, yes, and not a little one either. There were over forty factories and chemical plants in the area code, so obviously all eyes turned there. Pemex did run their own investigation and declared that this was way more likely the result of a cooking oil explosion. Last Central was a local factory that processed cooking oil, and Pemex was very much in the camp that this factory had leaked hexane, also incredibly flammable and violently explosive into the sewer. Hexane is lighter than water, so it wouldn't mix well. It would just sit on top of the sewer water waiting make a love connection with an ignition source. The Central clapback that we distill cooking oils, were not a hex sane factory. How much heck sane do you think we could possibly even have? The fire department had their own water samples from before the blast and it was hexane free. Again, no one could agree to anything, So what about the mayor? He didn't have an opinion, He could barely think. His whole job was flashing before his eyes. His weight and see attitude now hung over his head like the sword of daviocles, and one does not simply make a decision that results in hundreds of crushed and severed heads without knowing that your own will be gleefully removed if you were found responsible. The disaster was so colossal that President Carlos Salinas Dagartari arrived to tour the devastated area, and he could barely fathom what he saw, saying mmmmmmmmmmm, and then he stooge slap everybody. He gave seventy two hours to figure this out, or he'd be putting on his Freddy Krueger style slapping gloves. Investigators in the Attorney General's office were able to piece to get they're enough evidence to put together a pretty horrifying origin story. I described the underground as being a bit of a spaghetti dinner of service pipes and wiring conduits, and a full eight days before the disaster, a loss of pressure had been detected in a gasoline pipe leading from Pemex's refinery to the gas depot. Okay, so gas was the culprit, But why the explosion? Well back when they built the local subway, Organizing the subterranean network became kind of like a game in some places, the pipes were literally bent into U shape to wrap around others, the problem was fuel and fumes collected in those bends and siphons, building up over time, completely unnoticed by the time it was strong enough to detect from the street. What happened took a willful lack of effort. By the time the heat and the pressure finally reached an ignition point, or the fumes trace their way to an open flame or an electric spark, it is entirely more likely that the initial blast was caused by a discarded cigarette. Okay, but why the League earthquake? Poor workmanship? Was the city sinking? No, the gasoline pipeline had been made of reinforced steel, and science says that different metals corrode at different rates. Water pipes beneath the streets were made of either galvanized iron or copper coated with zinc, and in the haste to get the subway done, some of the pipes basically ended up laying across each other. And when two wet metals touch, especially if electricity is nearby, the rate of corrosion skyrockets. It's called galvanic corrosion, and it's no joke. The water pipe rested on the gasoline pipe, and where they connected, the magic of metallurgy turned the gas pipeline into a leaky hose, which it did unnoticed for at least a week. The cost of the explosions in dollars was incalculable. Bestesimus range between three hundred million and a billion dollars. The trench of destruction spread five miles or eight kilometers. Imagine sixteen hundred and forty Dodge caravans park bumper to bumper five miles or eight kilometers of destroyed roads. And when I say destroyed, I mean utterly destroyed and placed by dirt and debris. If you could picture the landscape of rescuers pouring over ground zero after nine to eleven, that's pretty close. In total, the explosions swallowed six hundred and thirty seven vehicles, both sides of the street, the sidewalks, the surrounding buildings. Fifteen hundred homes and over twelve hundred commercial buildings all gone. And that doesn't even begin to touch on the human toll. More than two hundred and fifty were confirmed dead, five to six hundred missing, eighteen hundred injured, and over fifteen thousand people were made homeless. The Attorney General filed negligent homicide charges against four PEMMICS officials, along with three representatives of the regional sewer system and the mayor. All four of PEMMICS officers were found not liable. The mayor, on the other hand, well, it turns out it's hard to campaign after blowing up your city by ignoring your constituents. And he was forced to resign from office, and that is some cold comfort for the victims of the disaster. The streets and buildings were slowly rebuilt and replaced. The disaster shaun a light on the problem of industrial contamination. While Lahara and in other cities across the country, sophisticated monitoring systems were installed that includes having a detailed plan of what was already down there, applied against a better understanding of what does and does not play well together. With Pemex having the deepest pockets but being legally off the hook, the chances of receiving any kind of meaningful compensation was pretty slim. Pemex did voluntarily pay a small amount, but it made it very clear that this was out of the goodness of their hearts. It was not an emission of responsibility, And to remind people, this was not the first manhole cover with the Pemex logo to fly to the air. In nineteen eighty eight, an explosion of a Pemex oil pipeline killed eleven. In nineteen eighty five, a Pemex gas explosion ripped through Siadaduarez, killing twenty seven, and in nineteen eighty four, a Pemex propane explosion in Mexico City killed more than five hundred people. The people of the Reforma district were not poor, but you don't live that close to refinery if you're super well off. And I'd bring that up to say that poor people are always less able to cope and absorb the trauma and loss after a disaster. These people had lost their homes, they lost their businesses, they lost their limbs, they lost their loved ones. So victims formed an association to fight for what was right. And that was thirty years ago, and I still wish them luck. This may be the first time we've talked about an exploding road disaster, but it's hardly the first time we've covered what I call a correlation disaster. If not for the engineering issues playing out beneath their feet and out of sight, there would have been no issue to ignore. But without the authorities willing to ignore the issue in the first place, the situation and the resulting deaths and destruction may not have been so inevitable. And so once again I hop onto my little soapbox, and I remind you that politicians willing to put their own needs beneath the needs of the people they serve are few and far between. I place no guilt on the citizens, and I have nothing but respect for everyone who labored to exhaustion trying to save lives. And I want to leave you with this. You know, I advise people to cover their eyes and ears and an explosion if possible. Remember Halifax history remembers it solemnly. But I always think about this one really obscure factoid. Just shy of six hundred people were blinded by the force of the blast, including sixteen who had both eyes enucleated. Have you never heard the term before? Good for you? By definition, it means they were blown out, whole and clean, like a nut from a shell. So I always remember your eyeballs are technically detachable, but also washable and returnable. You can reach out to us on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook as Doomsday Podcast, or just fire us an email to Doomsday Pod at gmail dot com. Older episodes can be found wherever you've found this one, and while you're there, please leave us a review and tell your friends. If you want to support the ongoing product of the show, you can find us at Patreon dot com slash funeral Kazoo or buy meacoffee dot com slash Doomsday. But if you can spare the money and had to choose, we ask you to consider making a donation to Global Medic. Global Medic is a rapid response agency of Canadian volunteers offering assistance around the world to aid in the aftermath of disasters and crises that are often the first and sometimes the only team to get critical interventions to people in life threatening situations, and to date they have helped over three point six million people across seventy seven different countries. You can learn more and donate at Global Medic dot ca. On the next episode, We're going to try We're going to try to calm things down, and we're going to calm things down and try to have a little fun. But spoiler we will fail terribly, but spoiler ah, we're going to fail terribly. It's the Battersea Park Big Dipper disaster. It's the Battersea Park Big Dipper disaster of nineteen seventy two. We'll talk soon. Safety goggles off and thanks for listening. We're gonna try to calm things down and try to have a little fun, but spoiler yeah, we're gonna fail terribly. It's the Battersea Park Big Dipper Disaster of nineteen seventy two. We'll talk soon. Safety goggles off and thanks for listening.