After the rockfall settles, dust swirls around you, thickening the already stale air. Blinking the stars out of your eyes, your vision adjusts to the dim light and despite your throbbing headache and the ringing in your ears, you catch a glimpse of the golden opening above where the silhouettes of pine trees watch over you. As your wits slowly return and you shift your weight, you realize your leg is pinned beneath an enormous felled boulder. As the screaming pain floods your limbs and panic-mode sets in, it dawns on you—you just tumbled down a cliffside. 

But the real question is, who will the rescuers call when they find you? Who’s your emergency contact? Alas, the #1 in your speed dial is your never-serious significant other, a person whom you’ve frequently caught rummaging in the fridge at 2 AM for some shredded cheese. Your live-in corporate-raccoon partner who steals extra snacks from the break room to supply your home fridge. The goofy partial-adult with whom you share your life—they’re your emergency contact.

Despite this lingering immaturity of your beloved romantic partner, and even with your broken femur getting smooshed under a rock, you’re flooded with relief. Because in spite of the desperation of your imminent future, at least you know your hilarious yet ditzy cohort is your first dial in an emergency.