I wrote this based on a discussion with someone about how pissed they are about the Canadian wildfire smoke blanketing the Eastern Seaboard. It isn't as bad in the DC area as what I've seen in New England.
And it also made me think, crap. It certainly is an inconvenience but all my life could be burned down in Canada. And that would extra suck. I pointed this out to the other person and he was none too kind back at me. I think he lacks an empathy gene anywhere in his body.
I haven't written a thing like this in a long time.
How many times have you (or I) been stuck in traffic. Nothing is moving, or it is at a very basic crawl. Progress by inches is hard fought. You're not really late for a thing, you don't have a tub of ice cream in the groceries in the way back but you just want to get the hell home. It isn't the usual time for traffic to be this gianormously sucky. But it is.
You curse under your breath or maybe with your full voice. You don't let that guy in the BMW in after he flew down the breakdown lane. "That guy," you say, "Fuck that guy."
Eye contact, that's what you want. You want him to see your massive bitch face as you cling to the bumper of the Dodge van in front of you, only his windows are fiercely tinted. Maybe you can't see him but you make sure he can see you, buddy.
Eventually, you approach the area where the hold up is. There are emergency vehicles everywhere, Fire trucks, Ambulances, Cops. A helicopter is landing.
Jesus, a helicopter? Oh no.
One lane of traffic is getting by on the very far right side of the highway. A couple cops are trying to get the four lanes to three, down to two, and down to that one. The cop glares at the BMW guy in the breakdown lane, he's got his number and if he could he would write that up. You, and that cop, you get it.
As the helicopter comes down, no one gets to go forward. They wait for the whirlybird to be on the terra firma, and then sweeping arms they send cars up the highway. Everyone spreads to the far left so they can slam on the accelerator and get the fuck out of there.
You stay in the second lane from the right, you're feeling big things.
Jesus, a helicopter? What the hell must be going on for those poor people.
You saw three cars, one upside down in the median, in the wildflowers that are chaos gardened into the space each year and there are signs telling the mowers not to mow this down. It is for the pollinators, and for beautification.
Three cars means at least three drivers, three humans, maybe kids, maybe friends, maybe a dog. The carnage of the speed machines is everywhere: the chrome bent all to hell; broken glass and plastic; and all sorts of liquids from inside the vehicles.
The next exit is yours, which is why this location was infuriating to you. But now you know that could be your neighbor. Do you recognize that blue Honda Fit in the wreck? Is that the guy that lives two blocks over? He's got kids. You've seen them.
Suddenly your anger about the traffic jam and the time "wasted" has turned to sober realization, and deep empathy. You were so mad, so enraged. But there are people who are probably dead or dying, or in a world of hurt and facing a monstrously horrible recovery. Maybe they'll never be the same again after today.
Home. Grab the backpack off the back seat and the 6 pack of beer you stopped to get at that store where the prices are just right, even if he is a little out of the way. By now the beer is warm but you pop a top off as you drop your keys into the basket on the kitchen counter. The dog welcomes you enthusiastically, the way she always does.
Now is when you cry.
The dog is what gets you.
Maybe someone's dog is going to be waiting for their best friend. And their best friend isn't going to be coming home.
You open the back door and let her out, you stand there with your warm beer and watch her take that big dump that she takes because she's waited all day for this. Then she runs and plays, brings you the backyard toy to throw. Halfheartedly, you do.
And you cry more.
It crosses your mind that you were so angry, so pissed off, and yet what for. Why? Would it be different if the traffic was caused by one of those super old trees that you think could fall down any day now? Or if it was a road crew getting ready for night work so they've shut down three of the four lanes with cones and flashing lights? They'll be out there all night while you're home watching BritBox comedies and eating that left over Thai food from last weekend.
This is different, because lives are possibly lost, but. No. It is the same. It's not a good reason to be furious. It's just traffic sometimes and you have no control over that so getting worked up and aggressive is useless, futile. An absolute waste of your energy.
You know your brain, it isn't as easy as just saying "Oh look at this horrible situation and think it could be worse! It could be raining!" But you know your minor frustration is actually someone's worst day ever. And you need to learn to activate that empathy gene once in a while, in advance. Not when you roll up on a car wreck.
The dog is tired and now she wants to eat so you head on in. You call your girlfriend.
You call your mom.
