Life's a B movie, it's stupid and it's strange.
So the Dorf and I, despite two days of bickering and general annoyance, ventured out into the wilds of this place last night. I needed to hit the dollar store for Nat's gift basket, and wanted to get out. It was a nice night anyway.
So we hit a few stores, and then we see flashing cherries in the distance. I wanted to wander up that way anyway, so up we go.
We get to the lights. We figure, oh, the way people drive around here, it's likely just a silly accident, broken lights, etc.
Then we see the firetrucks. Then we see the tarp draped over the Neon. We see the firefighters standing around, staring, not saying much, the photographer for the paper looking almost quilty that he must be so close. There's not much left of the Neon on the drivers side. It's crushed. It's obvious that the person died instantly, if not soon after the crash.
When I realize that someone has died there, I turn away, immediately saddened. Then I look around at the mass of people standing around, staring, for no better reason then they have nothing else to do.
SOMEONE DIED HERE. Is nothing sacred? I begin to go off, talking loudly about how I imagine that it's someone's son or daughter in that car, and how would they feel. No one listens. I almost get run over by someone driving through the detour. I yell and gesticulate at them. No one notices. Aside from the ghouls distasteful watching the proceeding, no one is really seeing anything. They stand and they stare and they talk about their day as someone's mangled body sits waiting in a crushed car.
I could feel bile rising in my throat. We left quickly.
So we hit a few stores, and then we see flashing cherries in the distance. I wanted to wander up that way anyway, so up we go.
We get to the lights. We figure, oh, the way people drive around here, it's likely just a silly accident, broken lights, etc.
Then we see the firetrucks. Then we see the tarp draped over the Neon. We see the firefighters standing around, staring, not saying much, the photographer for the paper looking almost quilty that he must be so close. There's not much left of the Neon on the drivers side. It's crushed. It's obvious that the person died instantly, if not soon after the crash.
When I realize that someone has died there, I turn away, immediately saddened. Then I look around at the mass of people standing around, staring, for no better reason then they have nothing else to do.
SOMEONE DIED HERE. Is nothing sacred? I begin to go off, talking loudly about how I imagine that it's someone's son or daughter in that car, and how would they feel. No one listens. I almost get run over by someone driving through the detour. I yell and gesticulate at them. No one notices. Aside from the ghouls distasteful watching the proceeding, no one is really seeing anything. They stand and they stare and they talk about their day as someone's mangled body sits waiting in a crushed car.
I could feel bile rising in my throat. We left quickly.
I used to be that photographer and I can tell you your assessment was right on.
I hated going to accident scenes. I hated the idea that I could possibly get in the way of emergency personnel. I hated the idea that I had to photograph someone else's personal tragedy and share it with the public.
I only went to one fatal crash (empty school bus versus vehicle, fatality in the vehicle) and that was enough for me. I was the editor of the small weekly but I still had to do what the managing editor and chain president said and the president wanted accident photos and "fatals on the front."
When I marked up the page for this accident, I started my headline above the fold and put the crash photo (which was a pretty good photo, I must say, in terms of photojournalism) below the fold. The president of the papear was furious. I said, "What if this woman's family is out somewhere buying milk, trying to get their lives together and they see that photo?" Also people were going to buy the paper based on the headline, not the photo, if they didn't automatically buy it each week.
I didn't work for the paper much longer and that was the last accident I covered. I told the president if he wanted accident photos he could take them himself ;)
Posted by
Anonymous |
2:53 p.m.
Thanks for the insight Eden. Cause dude looked REALLY not happy to be there. Turns out it was an older lady who "veered" into theother lane.
For the damage done, buddy in the truck was going some fast.
Posted by
thordora |
7:26 p.m.
What's really sad is when you see how desensitized people have become to scenes like this.
It's almost as if we're going back to a time when things like public executions were spectator sports.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:52 a.m.
xx
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:23 p.m.
I don't have a clue what defines journalism and what makes voyeurism. It's probably in all our hearts. Spirit and soul, folks, make them your own. Then revulsion and horror, well, they can and will be understood for what they are.
Listen at me. Like I'm some fucking guru.
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:02 p.m.