Everest Demands Evacuation by Tuesday: 'Too Many Selfies, Not Enough Oxygen'

In a rare victory for punctuality, rescuers declared they will evacuate stranded Everest hikers by Tuesday, because apparently the Death Zone now respects calendar invites and has a hard stop at 5 p.m.
The mountain, a 29,032-foot icebox with commitment issues, has been screening hobby climbers like a bouncer who only admits frostbite and hubris. Rescuers meanwhile practice the universal language of high-altitude diplomacy: hand signals, rope, and the phrase, ‘Please stop negotiating with gravity.’
Officials chose Tuesday because Monday is booked for weather and Wednesday for blaming Monday. Thursday is already reserved for postmortems with pastries, which is the only kind of morale that survives above 8,000 meters.
Reports from Camp Still Learning suggest several hikers were shocked to discover oxygen isn’t an app. One man named Bryce attempted to barter granola for air like an early adopter at a garage sale for lungs.
When the clouds cracked open a rescue window the size of a postcard, guides urged immediate movement. Half the group paused to clip their compact satellite SOS communicator
to a yak for better reception, because nothing says ‘I trust technology’ like outsourcing survival to livestock.
Another insisted on deploying a solar avalanche locator drone
which, after ten seconds of existential doubt, declared itself a weather balloon and defected to the jet stream. It now claims dual citizenship in cirrus and regret.

Pilots skimmed rotors along the ridge with the swagger of espresso-addled hummingbirds, while a voice on the radio kept repeating, ‘Yes, we can carry your duffel. No, we will not carry your mood board.’ The wind tried to unionize their helmets.
I filed notes from the helipad, where briefings run long and nouns wear crampons. In the waiting room, logistics stretched like a rope across a crevasse: you step on it wrong and suddenly your agenda is wearing a parachute.
Everest’s commercialization remains a masterclass in selling discomfort at luxury prices. There’s a velvet rope at the balcony of the world and every lanyard reads ‘Platinum Sufferer.’ Oxygen is optional; the surcharge for dignity is nonrefundable.
The mountain issued a terse statement through a wandering raven: ‘Please collect your tourists, their tents, and whatever that humming plastic locust was. The glacier is not a landfill, it’s a slow-moving museum exhibit.’
The Tuesday push resembles a group project where the Sherpas do everything and your contribution is a confessional post about ‘being brave enough to accept help.’ Congratulations on discovering humility at 26,000 feet, a popular altitude for enlightenment and lost mittens.
If the schedule holds, by Tuesday evening the only thing left up there will be footprints, empty canisters, and a stray sense of invincibility that refuses to descend. Rescuers will mark the mission ‘Complete,’ the mountain will hang a Do Not Disturb sign, and Bryce will promise to return next year with a better pitch deck for air.