Meaghan

Her name was Meaghan.  She was going into shock.  I was standing on the side of the road in northern Alabama holding her up so that she did not fall down again and hurt herself.  I urged her to sit down on a safe area off the side of the road and stood up thinking I should run to the truck to fetch a blanket.  Just minutes earlier, I had been following her and several other drivers down Highway 72 near Athens Alabama.   There was another semi in front of me so my forward visibility was somewhat obscured.  Because of this, I had been giving the truck plenty of room in case we needed to stop in a hurry.  Sure enough, without warning, I saw the two white cars in front of the semi flip end over end several times.  They had made contact at high speed in the middle of the roadway.  Plastic and glass rained down on the pavement and the smell of burning rubber filled the air.  

The truck driver in front of me and I both had the same reaction.  We braked as safely as possible and pulled off the right side of the road.  As I was slowing down, my mind raced to remember where I had stored my medical kit.  I cursed out loud when  suddenly remembered that I had gotten lazy about it and stopped carrying one just over 2 years ago.  As my truck glided to a crawl, my left hand instinctively reached down to unlatch the fire extinguisher that I keep there.  I glanced up and surveyed the situation quickly.  There was no immediate indications of a fuel spill or a fire.  I made a quick decision and spared some seconds to forgo the extinguisher for now.   This was far from the first time I had witnessed such and event, and I knew that time could be pretty critical right now.

As the air brakes popped in the two trucks, we were both out and on our feet in a full run before our engines fully shut down. There were also people already streaming in from several directions out of the businesses that lined the side of the road.  The driver in front of me veered left to the minivan that had landed in the middle of the median on its side.  Most of the other bystanders were also running in that direction.  So I turned my attention to the other vehicle.  The white Hyundai had rolled at least once and had veered off the right side of the road and about 150 yards down a pretty steep embankment.  Thankfully, it had landed on its wheels.  As I ran towards the car, a much younger man ran past me and down to the vehicle.  As we made our way down the slippery grass slope, a young lady exited the drivers side of the car and promptly fell down.  The young man in front of me reached her first and helped her up.  As they attempted to distance themselves from the wrecked Hyundai, they both took another tumble together.  I reached out and grabbed the young lady by the arm as we both asked her frantically: “Is there anyone else in the car?”  “N-N-No”.  She replied through her sobs. 

I pulled the young girl up to the shoulder with the young man right behind her.  He was a bit frantic and wanted to drag the poor girl down the roadway in the direction of the gathering crowd.  “No” I insisted.  “She could be going into shock and she needs to sit down before she falls down again”. He looked at me and nodded and ran off to some unknown direction.  I sat the young lady down and asked her name.  “Me-Meaghan” she replied, still crying.  She had a pretty, oval shaped face with long blond hair.  She could not have weighed 98 pounds soaking wet.  I asked her if she was OK.  I gave a cursory glance for any wounds and checked for any obvious compound fractures.  Still crying, she managed to let me know that she didn't believe that she was seriously hurt.  “How old are you kiddo” I asked.  “18” she said and drew another breath to continue her fit of anxiety.  I assured her that things were going to be OK.  At this point I looked up to see an middle aged woman trotting in our direction with some purpose.  I could see that this girl would be in good hands if I needed to run off to fetch that blanket.  I told the woman the young lady's name and that she might be going into shock.  “I’m going to run back to my truck and see if I have a blanket”.  I said, and quickly trotted back in the direction of my vehicle. 

It was right here that my little world suddenly crashed in on me.  As I looked up at the crowd that I had first seen running to the scene, I noticed that almost all of them- some 30 or 40 people, were all standing around in an almost semi circle, cell phones in hand, taking pictures and video of the event.  I looked over at the minivan still laying on it’s side in the median.  There were two or three people aggressively trying to get the drivers side door open.  Immediately behind them, some 25 or so people, arms outstretched, crowding in while holding their little black devices and pointing them at the action.  At once, I felt my lunch try to take leave of my stomach.  I suppressed the notion and realized that in my haste, I had not even thought to grab my phone out of the truck.  Now completely sickened,  I started back up in the direction of my vehicle.  Panic almost struck me as I started to wonder if any of these people had actually bothered to use those phones to call for help. 

I picked up the pace and ran past the first truck driver who now had his safety vest on and was directing traffic around the crowd.  Just as I reached my truck, I heard the sirens and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  Someone had the sensibility to call after all.  As I climbed up, a police cruiser and two ambulances pulled up to the scene.  I watched two EMT workers head over in the direction where I had left the girl sitting on the side of the road.  Filled with confidence that she was now in better care than I could provide, I decided that myself and my truck were now more in the way of assistance than rendering it.   I sat down and started the truck and started to carefully ease it back into traffic. 

As I passed the scene, I noticed that the crowd of novice film producers were still aggressively working to hone their craft.  The sight once again sent tremors through my stomach and I was eager to depart the scene as quickly as I could.  As I drove away, I could not help but contemplate the absurdity of the things I had just witnessed.  Then the reality of it hit me full force: “They learned it from you” the voice in my head whispered. As I thought back over all the accident scenes I had photographed and documented in my 20 year career as a journalist, it sank in.  We taught these people this.  We showed them that there is some artificial value in documenting human misery and putting it on display for the our own sick satisfaction.   A new feeling washed over me: shame.  I was ashamed of what “media” had become.  The mad rush to get the next “thing” on your Twitbook page first so you can get some fake internet karma.  

I drove off wondering if what we have created may be our undoing.  If our instant information society may be more harmful in some ways than helpful.  I started to understand where the feelings of disgust and aggravation must come from that first responders exhibit toward this new breed of instant journalists.  I was reassured by the knowledge however, that there are still some people who can assess the situation and figure out what needs to be done: The people who worked to extract the driver from the minivan, the other truck driver, the young man who can run faster than this old man, and of course the first responders who arrived way faster than I thought possible.  I drove away knowing full well that I will probably never see that young lady again. I know that I left her in good hands and not much else about her.  But I do know this: Her name was Meaghan.  Which is a lot more that the people gawking at her picture on Facebook today will ever know about her.