Accident Waiting to Happen

Let me set the scene.


I'm stopped at a stoplight in South Minneapolis and my ever-present curiosity and Sherlock Holmes like observational skills notice some odd things about this particular corner. The most obvious to me at the start was the police car parked at the convenience store to my right in the process of arresting a rather exuberant felon. While this is not an uncommon sight around this neighborhood it is still unique enough to warrant my noticing. The second thing I noticed was that the traffic flowing opposite me had stopped and was backed up quite a ways.


A big white mini-van had been forced to stop in this traffic debacle in the middle of the intersection as the light turned red. Noticing that cars are now barreling towards him, the driver of this vehicle decides he should probably back up a tad, since going forward was not an option. So he pops into reverse and coasts his big ass van backwards.


Now is when the capital scene begins to unfold. A moderately hygienic girl is crossing the street on the crosswalk, her attention clearly focused on the police and their accosting of the ne'er do well taking place behind her. Little does she suspect that in a scant few feet she will be walking into the path of a large vehicle that is backing up in its clandestine way out of the intersection.


What happened next took only a matter of seconds, but I had the great dispensation to watch it play out in slow motion. As I come to the realization that the innocent girl is about to be "run over" by the truck I did what any of us would do. I leaned forward. Why you ask? To watch. And before you criticize me for not trying to help or interject into the scene let me say this. You would've done the same.


You know how when you're driving alone after dark up on a small road and suddenly a deer jumps out of the ditch in front of your car? What do you do? Well the first thing that happens is you yell "DEER!" Or at least that's what I do. Same thing. I'm merely acknowledging the situation and impending circumstances.


So truck backing, girl walking, me leaning.


The girl proceeds to faceplant into the side of the van, nose first. After ramming the van at full walking speed she staggers backward, shaking her head in that cartoony sort of way in disbelief. The van driver upon hearing a large moving object hit him, stops abruptly and looks in his rear view mirror (something he hadn't been doing up to that point, even though he was driving backwards). He sees the girl staggering around, and in an act of humane servitude, busts out laughing at her.


Meanwhile, the scofflaw being arrested is jumping up and down yelling "that dude just hit that girl! That dude just hit that girl!"


The girl, after "shaking out the cobwebs" continued on her way, the light turned green and the guy drove off and the police didn't believe their prisoner in the slightest. All became right with the world once again, and I smiled and laughed to myself for the rest of the morning.

In the Mouth of the River of Death

photo originally posted by Yanec


March 22, 2000
Cotonou, Benin

The air hung like a thick blanket over the city, slowing down everything and everyone until time itself labored from second to second. The heavy atmosphere caught in the lungs, making even the simplest of tasks laborious and difficult. One questioned the very need to breathe, as even that became strained and exhausting in the tepid air.

Above the concrete maze, the air seemed to dance and ripple to an unheard song, as if taunting the denizens who wallowed in laziness below, and flaunting its own freedom. The sun seemed to betray its own motives as it twisted and turned the air into a masterful work of invisible art, done only for the torture of the many pairs of hollow eyes that occasionally glanced skyward in hopes of finding relief and shelter from a misguided cloud. Not even the clouds questioned the stern gaze of the sun this day, and they all found folly elsewhere, departing from the angry gaze, like so many children fleeing the tirade of a cross mother.

The eyes that hopefully glanced upward soon drew themselves back to the steaming ground, as sweat made its stinging welcome into those peering eyes. It was as if the air, the thick, hot air, had become a second skin, laying heavy upon humanity. All are soon drenched and thoughts of solace, comfort and sleep drip away as beads of sweat. For there is no sleep this night, as even sleep becomes a hard and strenuous labor amidst the torrent of the sun's coarse waves. Choking life from every pore, the sun has left me defeated.

There For the Grace of God Go I

I remember an otherwise completely forgettable day in South Florida when I was first introduced to that thing that would define my generation. I was in the middle of doing my best to follow dreams, make parents proud, "find myself" and all the other societal detritus that tends to sideswipe me on idle sunny afternoons. At the time I was smack dab in the middle of an existential quandry that largely revolved around simplifying my life and eliminating that ever present buzzing noise that our culture has conveniently created to distract us from what really matters.

It was in this state that I first witnessed my sister, (who was not in the same crisis as I) chatting in the now largely antiquated mIRC online community. I sat down, quickly found some chatrooms with interesting people and made my insignifcant mark upon the cyber world.

And so it goes.

As history is wont to do I find myself cyclically returning to that day, albeit a tad more self-aware, yet still trying to follow dreams, make parents proud, and find myself. So here is my blog. And once again I participate in the grand old buzzing of the world.