August 1, 2007

Personal Observations from the Minneapolis Bridge Collapse on 35W and University

Fire. Black smoke. The suffocating scent of concrete dust and charred metal. The roar of police sirens. Just a few of the sights I was greeted with this evening, after I followed the trail of black smoke and the beat of helicopter blades down to the Minneapolis bridge collapse on 35W and University Avenue. The whole incident, from my perspective, can be summed up in one word: surreal. This is what I felt more than anything else, as I first heard of the disaster a few blocks from my apartment, and quickly went to see for myself.

I have never seen so many emergency vehicles. They tore across the highways, often weaving through herds of congested traffic, to get to an adjacent bridge—apparently base camp for the rescue efforts. The traffic lights were down near the little British Petroleum gas station I stood at, and traffic directors barked orders to pedestrians and vehicles. Ambulances and medical helicopters poured into the area, hauling away the injured, trailed by the dazed eyes of hundreds of students and residents from the nearby University of Minnesota and its surrounding neighborhoods.

I nudged my way forward, finding a gap in the crowd. A landscape of shattered concrete, flaming metal, and streams of water from fire trucks formed the scene below. Submerged cars and chunks of the bridge completely obstructed the normal, gentle flow of the Mississippi River. I tried to call my father and Vampkei from the scene to let them know what I saw, but my cell phone was down from the broken transistors and overused circuits. A worrisome thing of note for anyone who might become trapped in a future disaster.

For nearly two hours, I observed the urgent scurry of police boats, the continued flames, and the idle crowds of passerbys taking up stakes to watch the disaster (just like me). The sensory overload and looming storm finally sent me away, and I am at home now; watching the footage on the news, and still hearing the distant drum of choppers. Thankful that I wasn’t near the bridge at the time of the failure in any way, shape, or form, it’s striking how the incident is already receding into memory. Even though emergency vehicles and construction workers will continue to swarm the site for weeks. Even though funerals will be attended, some of the injured treated, and some left with wounds for the rest of their lives. Even though I shall continue to look across to the site every time I pass through the area or ride across neighboring bridges. This is the present.

And the future? Cleanup, engineering assessments, and reconstruction will fill the site’s life for years as men attempt to build a better mousetrap by scrutinizing the old one. Politicians and specialists will toss blame around in the usual game of media catch that characterizes modern America. The media itself will storm over the event for the next week or two, and it will recede into public history over the following months and years. Some small anxiety will be generated over the event, probably prompting the examination of other major bridges. Finally, a new bridge will appear over the site in the years to come, probably with a memorial plaque.

So predictable, but so memorable—simply because I was there personally to see the slurry of panic and rubble, to breathe the tainted air, and to feel the confusion and fear. The world, like human perception and its ranking of information in the depths of memory, is very strange.

-Namtlieu

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Wow amazing post. I can tell you really were there because of the BP and McDonald's description on your way to the scene. I used to live at 8th Ave. and University (about a block away) and I can't even imagine the scene and disbelief the people and yourself were feeling. Take some time out for yourself and contact your family soon to let them know you are okay.
Rich H.