( an amigurumi radish and you probably don't )Yesterday E and I took a walk, and it was both lovely and terrifying. The lovely was the waterhole up the street, the one the loud goose lived at a few years ago? No goose this year, but the cattails were gorgeous, and so were the wild roses on one of the undeveloped lots that are all over my neighborhood.
The terrifying? We witnessed a motorcycle accident. I ran to help, but someone with some first aid training considerably more current then mine jumped out of his car too. The rider wasn't wearing a helmet, and it's selfish I know, but I'm glad his brains weren't splattered all over the street. My daughter doesn't need to see that sort of thing.
Please ,please watch for motorcycles, and if you ride, please wear a helmet. In that split second, 2 lives were seriously compromised. The driver of the truck and the motorcyclist. It takes years to recover from either side of that sort of accident.
But that's not really what upset me most.
What upset me most, was that several people (and you know everyone's got a cell phone) couldn't figure out how to call 911, I dug my phone out of my fairly large purse by the time the person holding on figured out how to call 911.. but that's really not even what upset me most.
Wanna know what did it?
The gawkers.
The people who have such pathetic lives, that the excitement of seeing someone nearly killed was worth standing around and staring, talking about what happened, and just generally seeming to get entirely too much glee out of it. It made me sick. When I got home, it took me a while to stop being sick to my stomach over it. I wanted to scream, what is WRONG with you people? He's hurt, and you are all so busy staring and pulling over to stare, that you're creating a traffic hazard yourselves. Some people who couldn't manage to call 911 were on their phones talking to friends.
It's sick. Really seriously sick. Help, or get out of the way of the people who want to help.
Vultures, feeding off other people's pain and misery. American Idol apparently isn't enough.
I'm going back to my happy radish land. Because radishes don't stare at people who are hurt and call their bff to tell them all the gory details.