December 17, 2004
Airbag - part 1
On the evening of November 17th, a little over 3 weeks ago, I was standing in the empty offices of Paper Tiger, a local print company here in Santa Fe, trying to stay calm while simultaneously screaming inside. I had a gallery show coming up on Friday, which meant that I had to have all 9 pieces painted and framed by Thursday (tomorrow) and in case you have not gathered, none of this was done. I also have a rather demanding day job at an acupuncture college that requires my alarm clock start going off at 6:30 am so I can hit snooze until 7:00 am. “Why do you need a print company if you are going to paint?” you ask. Well, I start by sketching, then I have the sketches printed on photo paper, mounted and them I paint on the prints. It seems convoluted, I know, however the overall effect is well, cool for lack of a better word. It’s like making your own coloring book. So anyway, the guy at Paper Tiger, Mitch, was in the back room working late to get my prints done and as I stood there my friend who was visiting from Portland, Shanda, was out in my car with an ice cream cone waiting patiently. Mitch finally came out, gave me the pieces, I paid and we headed to my place. The rest of the evening and part of the very early next morning was spent painting and framing (I do all my own framing). Not only did I get it all done with time to sleep, but the finished pieces were some of the most dramatic I had ever done. The theme of the show was death and that theme shown very well indeed, helped along I think by my lack of time; less than a day.
In the morning while Shanda did whatever it is that woman do in the bathroom (shower, brush, transmit to the mother-ship, etc.), I meticulously wrapped and packed each framed piece into the trunk of my VW Beetle (not the old one that Hitler invented, the new model that aliens invented) and for some reason I packed them really freakin’ well but we will come back to that later. So, we get into the car and head towards town. This was Shanda’s first time in Santa Fe so I had devised a plan by which she could borrow my car to check out all of the museums, shops and galleries that make up the bulk of this strange little city while I was at my day job. She was also going to deliver the paintings in the trunk to Loren, the owner of the gallery I was showing in the next day. What could possibly go wrong? On the way into town I opted to take the Cerrillios exit onto Cerrillios Rd as opposed to the exit I always take at St. Francis so that we could get a bagel and some coffee. I never take this exit in the morning. Never.
The speed limit when you get onto Cerrillios is 55 mph slowing to 45 mph as it gets closer to the business district areas. There were moderate amounts of traffic and slow down in the oncoming lanes but I kept getting lucky hitting several greens in a row. My luck, however, would run out at that final green. As I approached the intersection just before the mall and the speed limit drop, a woman driving a minivan in the oncoming left turn lane decided that she would try to turn (in front of me) before I got to the signal. What happened next took maybe 4 seconds or so but it felt like 1. I saw that she was going for it and it occurred to me that if I slam on my breaks and she guns it we should be ok, so I slammed on the breaks but so did she and I suddenly was aware that we were going to hit another car at 50 mph give or take. I jerked the wheel to the right, hard, missing her passenger compartment and hitting her square in the engine. I thought that we were dead, right then and there, and although I don’t remember saying anything, Shanda told me later that I shouted, “oh shit!” just before impact which I would just like to say that I love. I love that, in what I thought could be my last spoken words in this life I used an expletive rather then a euphemism. I like what that says about my character, I think it says a lot.
Your eyes open and you here this strange hiss and echoing in your ears like someone fired a gun near your head. The car was full of what I thought was smoke; it wasn’t until later that I found out that this was actually airbag dust. Something no one ever tells you about, I remember thinking that we were on fire and that I was always told that car fires were a kind of urban movie myth and I was kinda pissed about that. At the same time I couldn’t think to move, it was so strange, not being able to know what to do, not really knowing what’s just happened, too confused to be scared. I looked over at Shanda, she was still unconscious, and it crossed my mind that I may be dreaming all this. There was a knocking sound; I could see a fist on the window glass through the white powder. I still wasn’t sure what was going on, I was aware but kind of lost too. Shanda woke up coughing and crying. I managed to ask her if she was ok and that’s when I noticed blood coming out of my nose and getting all over everything. The site of blood woke me up and I started to hyperventilate. I tried to hold Shanda’s hands but mine were numb and my thumbs wouldn’t work. A man came to my window and opened the door, at the same time the other door opened. “Hey, try to stay awake! Tell me your name!” Oh god this is so surreal I thought. I can’t remember my name. What’s my name? “I can’t feel my face. I think my nose is broken.” “You’ve been in an accident. The ambulance is on the way. You’re gonna be fine.” “Oh, right, a car accident.” The world was coming back to me and the gravity of the situation took hold. “Is the other driver ok?” “I’m going to check right now so don’t move. Stay still until the ambulance gets here.” By now several other good Samaritans had come up including an off duty EMT who knew exactly what to do. I told him to check on my friend. Even confused I understood that she was hurt worse then me and needed help that I couldn’t give. As he checked her neck and spine she cried out and asked me not to leave her in the car alone. Sirens were coming. The man who had first come up to the car returned. “The other driver is just fine. Not a scratch. My name is Scott and I work across the street at Comcast Cable. Come see me if you need anything.” And like that our cable angle exited stage left. Of course he was trying to let me know that he would be a witness if needed but at the time I almost wanted to ask him when cable service would be available in my part of town. Dish Network is a bit of a rip-off but that is another blog all together.
The police and medics were on the scene now. I watched them strap Shanda to a backboard, which is horrifying to witness by the way, and they carried me out and put me in the ambulance. They loaded her in but before we started off she was asking the EMT’s to check on the paintings in the trunk. God bless her. She’s taped to a board, I can taste my own blood and she’s worried about my art. I told her not to worry about it and we were off to St. Vincent’s.
To be concluded…
Posted by chase at December 17, 2004 05:22 PM