Does it not have a ring of deliberation about it that the day to honor workers, May Day, is also the gravest of distress signals for ships and aircraft?
Could some poetic, or at least etymological or sociological, or somtheing -logical, force have conferred this term with this dual meaning, indicating, perhaps obscurely, that if enough people start talking about May Day then a certain craft, or ship, or system, or something may be in danger?
Put another way, it’s fucked up that the day to celebrate worker solidarity is also what you say when your fucking ship is sinking. And today, that ship is terminal capitalism.
People died for the weekend and the 8-hour work day. People were murdered by the state in order to prevent humane scheduling. And we still deserve better.
Read about May Day, or International Workers Day, here on Wikipedia.
Or check out this article from the IWW from 1993.
If you work for a living you should be reading Jacobin. Today, May Day, you can get subscriptions starting at $1.68.
Live Work Work Work Work Die | by Corey Pein
Democracy in Black: How Race Still Enslaves the
American Soul | by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
Homer's Odyssey | Translated by Norbert A.D. Albertson | Paperback
The Hapless Rube's Apocalypse Survival Guide | by Jack Barker | Paperback
NoCountry.info 
Gripping lead paragraph. Beautiful prose! Looking into Jacobin next.