One Thing I Have in Common With Abe Vigoda
At 7:00am Wednesday morning, I was reading a front page article about this bridge what studies had shown was completely unsafe and couldn't be counted on to hold up under its current load, let alone the weight of the train they were going to put on it. (That train is another story. Every track and tie laid for it thusfar has been a headless blunder toward disaster, but we'll talk about that some other time.)
At 7:00pm, a handful of out-of-town friends were calling to see if I'd been on that bridge, as it seemed to have fallen into the river. We should note that this happened within twenty-four hours of a front-page article warning us of the distinct possibility that said bridge would fall into the river. I hear the byline read "Mothman."
Tragedies are best served with ample sides of irony, though, and this one exceeded expectations. The reason the bridge collapsed, near as anyone can tell right now, was the constant stress and strain placed upon it by construction work, work being done to reinforce it, reinforcing it so that it wouldn't fall into the river.
So anyway, I did what any manager with clients and staff moving all over the city would do, I called them all and took a head count. If anyone asks, though, tell them it was for liability reasons. You know, HR stuff. I don't want word spreading that I was actually concerned. Same holds true if you see me giving blood or clearing rubble. I have a rep to maintain.
Speaking of cold reps, I live about ten minutes' walk from that bridge and (token statement now reads:) "Gosh, I drive on it almost every day." That said, my mom still hasn't called to see if I'm dead. Infernal woman.