Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

Having recently returned from an outstanding vacation of camping with family in the High Uintas, I was having a hard time getting back into the daily routine of work and exercise. After sitting in the donation center all day, I began my usual debate with myself about my commute. The 65 commute was the least physical, with the bus picking me up in front of the office and dropping me one block from my house. The train commute was more active, involving a one mile walk from the office to the light rail station, then about a mile’s walk from downtown to my apartment. After much one-sided arguing, I opted for the more strenuous route of walking to the light rail station. The initial walk was relaxing, but once I arrived on the platform to await the arrival of the H-Line, things turned ugly.
First of all there was a Broncos game, so the trains were full to capacity, with people standing in the aisles and holding on to the handrails. I waited for two E-lines full of fans to pass, opting for the H-line which delivered me closer to home. As I sat waiting, listening to cars whizzing by on I-25, I suddenly heard a loud explosion. I looked up to see an SUV on the highway, smashed against the center dividing wall, its rear smashed, tire flat and smoking. The gentleman next to me immediately called 911, and we searched for signs of movement in the badly damaged vehicle. Cars continued to pass, with nobody stopping to offer assistance.
There was no movement in the vehicle, and we all mentally debated whether or not trying to run across three lanes of heavy highway traffic would be prudent or beneficial. We decided not, but I couldn’t help but feel helpless and an unshakeable sense of doom for the driver as I boarded the H-line. I watched the road for emergency vehicles as the train traveled in the opposite direction, but it was several minutes before I saw a fire truck with sirens headed that way. I tried to put the thought that the driver might be dead out of my mind as I headed for home.
I got off the light rail and decided on the lazy route for the remainder of my commute, so I jumped on the mall shuttle to take me within six blocks of home. The shuttle traveled about two blocks and stopped, doors opening at an unauthorized stop. Passengers cleared the bus, and I followed them, not sure why. The reason for the interruption became apparent as we exited the bus—a fire engine was parked at the next intersection, with paramedics hurrying about to help an injured person. I don’t know what the problem was there, or how many people were involved, but I decided it was officially a bad commute and decided to walk around the block to McDonald’s and indulge in a chicken sandwich and diet Coke.
As I arrived at the entrance to McD’s, there were several people hopping about in an agitated state, yelling, cursing and pointing. Immediately a patrol car pulled up, and the people started simultaneously telling their story. Apparently a young man had been riding his bicycle along the sidewalk when another man ran at him, knocked him off his bike, and rode away on it. The road was blocked off, several more officers showed up to take statements, and I sought solace in McDonald’s and my diet Coke.

August 20, 2012 - Posted by | Uncategorized

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