In hindsight, the solution was obvious.
Anyway, that's what I thought when I awoke, face and hands already sweaty, the dark and humid air beginning already to claw at my face.
There was no light. I didn't have one on me. Didn't think I'd need a phone, with no reception. No, that wasn't part of the plan. And I don't smoke.
So, unlike the movies where there is in-scene lighting when the hero is trying to claw his way out of the coffin, it was nothing. It was dark and moist and stiflingly, oppressively silent.
The plan had been easy: post the location of my self-interment as a flash meetup through the networking site. I had the whole thing worked out: the casket, the stacked lever such that when I closed the coffin lid I would empty the crate of soil on top of the coffin. Good gag, right? I begged people to bring their cameras. With footage, it'd go viral at that other networking site. Right?
Not so far. I was surprised I had been able to sleep at all. But I had. Comforting, imposing silence, I guess. I didn't know how long it had been. Long enough that I had air left. Beyond that?
In hindsight, though, everything is clear. And this time, what was the lesson? If you're going to plan a flash mob to dig you out of a coffin -- make sure there's a mob available to flash onto the scene.