by Vincent Traina

Created on: March 15, 2009

A little over forty hours ago, I witnessed a tragedy while driving on Route 287 South, right before the exit for Route 10 East. "This can't be happening," I vainly tried convincing myself during the five seconds I watched a man run across the highway and have his life come to an abrupt end. This is the kind of thing you hope you never have to see. Well, I saw it. Actually, I kept seeing it because my mind had been on continual replay ever since it happened on Wednesday, September 14 at about 12:45 PM.

I was driving inside of my little 1990 Honda Accord, going at about fifty-five miles per hour, when suddenly was shocked by seeing a man darting across the highway. At least a thousand thoughts rushed through my brain as I stunningly observed this total stranger momentarily stop, possibly hoping a car would slow down for him, then instinctively continue to run forward and immediately jump back from a passing pick-up truck, which had barely missed clipping him. I can only hope that one of the last feelings this man had was one of immeasurable relief that he wasn't a centimeter closer to the vehicle that almost hit him. This might have been his last conscious elucidation right before he courageously advanced forward, only to be defeated by a yellow sports car.

At this point, I impetuously pulled over, grabbing my cell phone and attempted to call 911. Immediately, I got out of the car and began making my way down to the scene. Frustrated by the fact that my cell phone was giving me the busy signal for a 911 call, I noticed others passing by and waved my arms to them, loudly shouting, "Someone call 911!" I noticed another guy who was on his phone and talking, logically understanding that he had a lot more luck with establishing contact with an emergency service than yours truly. (Thanks A LOT Verizon for denying me access to 911)

Not having any medical training whatsoever, besides a high school lesson in CPR and a rudimentary knowledge of the Heimlich maneuver, I despairingly reasoned at the horrifying reality of the situation. A driver in a truck slowed down coolly stating, "Here, put this over him." I picked up the large beige blanket and respectfully draped it over him, only to have the wind lift part of it off. I started putting it back over him and we all started shouting to him, "Sir, can you hear me?" Making sure I put the blanket underneath my hand, I placed my fingers on his wrist to feel if he had a pulse. Thinking that I felt something move, I angrily realized

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