|Blogs > ByteChaser2 > The Clan of the Cave Dude|
The unreasonable fear of that stranger who brings you pizza...
Ok, so I've been thinking about that whole fear of crowds thing and I think I know where it comes from now. It was a shallow pit of buried memory but it just dawned on me when it all started.
When I was JUST a teenager - 13 or 14 - a small single engine plane crashed a couple miles from our home. The guy died on impact (having an airplane engine shove you into the tail section tends to cause immediate death) and his girlfriend died an hour or so later.
It was the height of summer vacation. It had to have been a Sunday because, as I remember, I awoke well into the morning to what I thought was an earthquake. My brother said he'd heard an airplane engine cutting off and on right before he felt the house shudder... He said it was a plane crash.
He was convinced, dad wasn't... And since pops and I never got along all that well, brothers conviction was enough for me. We got our day packs on and headed up the hill through the woods to see what was what.
The first thing that impressed me was the smell. Gasoline, old engine oil, a hot copper smell and under it all, that pungent odor the comes from a freshly field dressed deer - cavity smell.
We searched the wreckage. The guy was dead in the back of the plane, still in his seat with the engine cutting him in half. His girlfriend had been ejected on impact and lay in a pool of her own blood a couple of yards away. She was breathing...
My brother made his way to one of the summer camps close by to get help. I was the red cross kid so I stayed to get first aid going.
She stopped breathing before too long. I'd started mouth to mouth, getting her blood in my mouth. Chest compressions did nothing but pump what little blood she had left out of her wounds.
Then people started showing up. People I'd never seen before. two or three turned into a dozen. Then more and more and more. I can remember some of them taking marijuana bales off the plane and threats made not to let the woman die.
When the police and ambulance crew finally showed up, I'd been snatched away from the body, disgusted at having just touched a corpse for a good half hour, petrified that strange men would show up on my front lawn one night, calling for my head.
Much of that summer is just a blur of police questions and therapy sessions and a seemingly never ending stream of well wishing strangers.
I spent a lot of time in the woods that summer, building my tree house and hiding out from the crowds of strangers...
2/27/2006 5:08 pm
think that tree house survived? still there maybe?|
i was just thinkin...July...vacation..ya know
i love your guts
2/28/2006 6:54 am
Gosh slippy, the thing has to be more than 25 years old by now. I can't even begin to imagine what kind of shape it's in anymore... But hey, if the new owners don't mind a couple of squatters, I'm game |
And I lalalalove your guts right back