Our jaywalk to lunch today was interrupted by a loud smashing noise coming from the front of a short bus. The same short bus that I had just seen cutting off a guy on a motorcycle/scooter-thing. In my head it is a cute little Vespa-like scooter, but honestly, it could have been some sort of smallish motorcycle. Hard to say, because the more vivid memory that I now have is of all the little pieces of it crunched all over the road.
I mean, I guess if you’re going to have an accident, you’d better go ahead and have it in front of a hospital at lunchtime on the road by the cafeteria. Ok, so it was actually in front of the research building next to the clinic, but still, the guys that helped him out of the wreckage of his scooter probably know way more about helping someone in a medical emergency than your average Joe Schmoe.
Because we had seen the whole series of events, my friend and I figured we’d better stick around until the police arrived. Scooter Guy didn’t seem to be bleeding and the bus driver wasn’t even concerned enough to get out of his bus, (no kidding, the guy just sat there on his bus with this look on his face that said, “whatever. you should see the last guy I hit.”) but we thought maybe it was part of our civic duty to not just walk away and go eat lunch. The cop listened to us for a second, took our names and phone numbers and then walked away.
And that was that. But then I started to panic. What happens after you “officially” witness something like that? Is someone going to call me in three months when I have forgotten all about it and ask me about details like what the heck the Scooter Guy was driving? I can’t even remember right now and it was less than 12 hours ago! Should we have just walked away and let someone else be the witnesses? The paranoia wheels actually rolled way beyond that, but I’m embarrassed to tell the internets all the Law&Order-y details.
Eventually, the discussion at lunch got around to what I had been thinking right away — that’s why I could never ride one of those things here; not even just around town. It made us sad, cause we think the polar bears probably like scooters. I guess we’ll just have to keep riding the bus.
(on an only vaguely related note, check out this guy’s website — his experiment sounds really interesting and mostly impossible)