The metal of the car was being ripped apart at about the same time I received text pictures of my boys, Nico and Christopher, as they were having a great time at the beach. A car accident occurred in real-time, but I hadn't been made aware of the crash yet. Today is like any day for people who work, live, and pray. But our experiences can greatly vary.
I recall smiling at that picture from the safety of my police car. I can't imagine the SUV driver having fond memories unless his life flashed before his eyes as the fear of what was occurring began to register with him.
The smile beamed across my face, seeing those pictures of them standing on the beach. The sun was out. The water was blue, and it was a perfect day for them. It would have been better if I could have been there.
The driver of the doomed SUV was being tossed and turned with each roller coaster roll that the car made as the momentum swung him around and around. The metal was pounding from the asphalt, causing the red-painted metal to splinter out from the quarter panels, doors, and hood. As the SUV rolled across the three lanes of the highway, the metal jagged ends gouged out the asphalt, scratching an etch-a-sketched path of the mangled car's path until it crashed into a palm tree and rested upside down.
It was heaven for me to see those boys. Especially when I'm working a twelve-hour shift. I miss special moments like this sometimes. I'm left to sit in my police car and imagine those "tasty waves" and be mesmerized by that sunny day, and I try to get lost on that sandy beach.
BEEP (the alert tones sound from my police car radio)
"All units proceed to the area of 199th and Oak Street. There is a vehicle rollover into some huge trees," the dispatcher calmly broadcasts on the radio.
I placed my iPhone 6 Plus on top of my open laptop. The laptop is securely fastened to a computer stand mounted inside my police car. I reach down with my right hand and flip on all the emergency lights and sirens, which place my police car from intimidator to full "get the hell out of my way" mode.
My adrenaline takes over as I think about what I might see when I arrive. Is there anyone hurt? Is there a person trapped? Can somebody be dead?
"Save a life, Chris. Save a life. The first rule of law enforcement."
I accelerate my police car from 30 miles per hour up to 65 miles an hour. It fluctuates back and forth as I approach other vehicles and try to safely clear intersections.
I look towards my computer and notice my phone is still on, and the picture of my boys is staring back at me. A picture perfect for them but not so much for others. It's incredible how life can be so good to some and worse for others. Eventually, we all get a taste of both sides, regardless of what this moment gives us over another instance.
I arrived on the scene and moved through the crowd of people who were staring at the carnage. Some were filming it, and others were gawking. Most seemed concerned.
"Give us some room to work, please," I announce, "there is plenty of time for social media pictures, but from far away."
I climb on top of the car and open the rear door of the SUV.
I peered down and saw a head on the car's passenger side. He looked like he was pinned in. He was the driver, and he wasn't seat belted.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Si, si, just stuck," the driver shouted.
I stood on the frame of the sideways car and talked to him until the fire rescue personnel arrived. The man was fine but scared. Hell, anyone would be. Just the sight of how his car was would allow anyone to assume no one survived.
It was such a perfect day for my boys; while they were at the beach having a lot of fun in the Florida sun, those kids didn't have a care in the world. And yet, it was a much different day for this man in this car, who was lying on its side. But he will live and hopefully see a better day, which is much different from the one he just got done experiencing. We should all be so lucky to have better days than the one before.
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