Sunday, July 22, 2007

What the hell is happening to me.

I'm dealing with how to put this gently, but there is no way. I have blood down my arms. Tonight on the way home from the club, I watched a Lincoln Navigator roll over, and then catch fire. There were five girls inside. I heard the cab driver say in broken English "I think we're in trouble here" as I opened the door and ran. We tried to flip the car back over, but we couldn't get it. I saw a girl half-way out of the car, and half underneath it. I feared the worst, but luckily she was trying to get out and was just stuck, rather than ejected and pinned. The fire started getting hot, and the smoke thick. I pulled a girl up and through the passenger window, while my friend-and-now-brother Ulrich kicked in the sunroof. I tried to kick in the back hatch, but couldn't get it. I ran back to the back seat passenger side and saw a hand underneath the car. She was still conscious. She didn't want to move, but finally summoned the strength to stand up in the car, and I pulled her out too. It still doesn't make sense to me, so I guess it is one of those adrenaline stories you hear about. The girls probably weighed 130 pounds, and I grabbed them under the arms and just lifted them up and over the car. I don't know how. By the time I ran to the back, Ulrich had gotten a crow bar from God-knows-where and smashed in the window. He was already in the burning car. As I climbed in, I could barely see him because of the smoke. I was waiting for the car to explode. The girl he was saving was so disoriented that she said she needed to get her shoes first. Ulrich pulled so hard that his belt broke off his waist. I don't know how, but all five girls were pulled from the car. Two left in stretchers. My good friend Liz (the one who went to Provincetown in today's/yesterday's post) was headed to a flight at 6am but now had blood on her body from holding the girls while waiting for the paramedics.

In the end, I think the stretchers were a precaution (although one girl had a nasty head wound) and I think they all ended up okay. I have no idea who they were and I will never see them again. Our first cab had taken off, but the four of us somehow made it back to where Liz was storing her things so that she could quickly wash herself and then head to the airport. I ended up in the middle of the street wandering around with no clue as to where I was. I called Sarah at some time this morning, who then got on Google maps, found out where I was, and escorted me all the way home over the phone. It is now 7am, and day time, and I am now home. My arm is scraped up from pulling people through the broken windows. I have blood on me that isn't mine. My bus for Newport leaves in two hours. I might as well go, what else am I going to do? Sit around in shock? Everyone made it out fine, and I can sleep on the bus. Maybe I should sleep here. I don't know if I should be going anywhere for awhile. My last post about "alternate realities" was a joke, but it's just not funny anymore. Maybe I'll stay.

Anyway, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Please don't try to call either, as I don't want to talk about it. I'm home now. I think I'm going to bed.


S.S.Stone said...

Oh my, this is just awful..Thank God you guys were there to help...and good thing Sarah was able to talk you home...hope you're all easy.

Mario said...

Hey, Buddy!
After all that, they need to at least cast you in a small role on screen with Denzel!!!!
Maybe the yoga class was serendipitously timed such that your muscles learned just in time how to generate more power and optimize the adrenaline rush?
Whatever the case, Buddy, that's incredible, and as always, we're so very proud of you.
(Good teamwork, Sarah! It's like that scene in Mission Impossible 3, guiding Ethan Hunt through Shanghai, or whatever town they were in!)

Isn't it amazing to think that those poor girls needed you and Ulrich to be in Boston this summer, at that intesection, to survive.
An amazing irony is that several years ago you and I thought that the Lincoln Navigator was just the coolest thing, and that the SUV would provide the maximum safety factor.

Serendipity... this reminds me of an art exhibit I saw back in Berkeley (in the previous century!) ... I can't remember the artist, but one of the pieces was a small sign that said something to the effect of, "There you are. I've been waiting for you to arrive here at this moment. You and I are now forever connected."
You don't know their names, and you all (All Y'All) may never learn each others' identities, but now you, the five girls, and their families present and future are forever connected.

Love you, Buddy!

Anonymous said...

Oh my God, that is an exceptional story. Waow. Amazing.