Big bang, little bong

From the Eyrie I can hear, as well as see, a lot happening in our lovely California downtown. Usually the soundtrack is the mundane mix of any city: busy traffic; whining ambulances; bits of laughter and conversation from the parking lot next door; children squealing on the school playground across the street; bass thumps from a passing sound system on wheels. Occasionally the sound of grinding brakes is added, followed by screeching and thudding as two cars try to occupy the same space at the same moment and find their atoms locked. Most often these minor fender benders leave not much more than scratched paint and several annoyed people in their wake. Today, however, the sound didn't drift up lazily--it shattered the normal Friday morning peace with an urgency that shook the entire neighborhood. Almost immediately the sirens began, and I knew this was no casual side scrape.

I was compelled to the window and saw it all happening on the corner just one block over. An ugly dread dropped on me as I stepped into my New Balances and grabbed my house keys. Not normally a gawker, and certainly not wishing to be in the way of rescue personnel, I decided to walk just halfway up the block. The silence of the gathered crowd said everything necessary to grasp the situation. I walked on despite my original intentions and in a moment saw the small SUV that had flipped completely over and squashed roof first into the pavement. In fact, I didn't recognize at first what kind of vehicle it was. Ground up windshield particles lay around like a can of glitter someone had upended. I expected to see blood, and a good deal of it, judging by the disastrous shape of the wreckage. Amazingly, the driver was already out of the destroyed vehicle and being strapped onto a gurney. An eyewitness told me that the young woman had managed to crawl out through what appeared to be a few inches' space between metal and concrete. Looking at her, I could tell how disoriented she was. Her chest and head appeared to be swelling slightly as her eyes, obviously not focusing properly, made her appear as confused as she surely must have been. Internal injuries, no doubt, I thought.

I then noticed a second SUV, a Lexus, pulled off to the side of the street, part of its front fender piled around on the ground. The Lexus' driver, another young woman, stood on the sidewalk calling someone. Police, firefighters, and EMTs were as numerous as the onlookers, each one silently intent on his job. An acquaintance of mine, a Christian man who lives downstairs from me, arrived on the scene and we discreetly prayed for everyone involved in the situation.

The eyewitness told me that the Lexus driver had caused the accident, apparently trying to beat the light at that notoriously tedious intersection. It seemed unjust that the woman on the gurney was not the one whose inattention or irresponsibility had brought the whole thing about. However, as I soon saw, the irony was not yet complete. After the tow truck arrived and pulled the crushed vehicle upright again, an officer rushed in to retrieve the victim's belongings piled underneath. A odd-looking yellow plastic tube fell onto the ground. The incredulous policeman showed it to his colleagues: undeniably an implement for the imbibing of illegal substances...a sweet little bong, right under her coat. Whoops! That's when the second officer joined in a search of the SUV's interior. Within seconds they found what they were looking for. Shaking their heads, they placed everything back inside the wreck and went to their paperwork as it was towed to impound.

Tonight I read on the local paper's Web site that it was the injured driver who was deemed at fault. This contradicted the eyewitness I spoke with, as well as several other people who were on the scene. Funny how things can appear, or how they can be later reported.

Two women left home this morning, neither knowing that her routine would be seriously curtailed before lunchtime. One, driving a new-looking Lexus, would stand by her slightly battered vehicle and talk in subdued tones on her cell, leaving on her own; the other would take a much more circuitous and complicated route before arriving home. Somebody indeed will end up in court, maybe both of them. I certainly hope that nothing more serious will result. All this happened in less time than it takes to walk from the desk where I write this, to my living room light switch and flick it on.

Once again, it is the big bangs that intrude on our lives, ready or not. The little bongs that we think are so well hidden have a way of insinuating themselves, too, at the most inopportune moments...ready or not.