disaster

A drunk driver had rear-ended a school bus, tipping it over on its side, and blocking the emergency door at the rear. After foaming the spilled diesel, the firemen had broken in windows at both ends, trying to get in to the dozen or so injured kids and their chaperones. All apparently on a camping trip, judging by the gear scattered in the road by the crews digging through to the victims.

This was the third time the big cop had chased me off the scene, just because I was taking pictures. As much as I wanted to run away, I held my ground.

I had a right to be there taking pictures.

And besides, my wife was one of the chaperones in that bus.

We had known about this disaster drill for over three weeks. The big cop just found out about it an hour ago, when he arrived at the scene in response to the emergency call. And now I am fulfilling my assigned roll, as a nuisance photographer.

I, and others, am impressed with our secrecy. The emergency services folks and a couple of people from the Fire Department had approached our youth group as serving as volunteer victims (and hysterical parents and nuisance photographers) to drill the emergency response teams. Us, and the drama crew from the high school. And we managed to keep it a secret for over three weeks, even when some of our boys had parents who work in the hospital.

The high school drama club also provided the make-up, complete with protruding bones, spurting arteries, wounds made out of morticians' clay, and internal bruising. And blood. Lots and lots of blood. Everything to make this experience as real for the emergency crews as it could possibly be. With actors in full character all the way through the scene, through the ambulance ride through town, and processing at the Emergency Room. (No, they didn't know we were coming, either. They got the frantic parents and demanding spouses, too.) Until they got the password from the drill supervisors.

So, I did my best to get in the way. Asking stupid questions at the wrong time, straddling the firehoses. Peeking in at the wreck to take pictures.

They shouldn't have even let me get that close. Wasn't too long before they got their act together, and I had my run-ins with the big cop.

The third was the last. Drill or not, I had no doubt the cuffs were going on, and I was headed to jail if I didn't get back. And as much as that would have been an appropriate test of their response, I would have missed them hauling the wife out of the bus, strapped to a chair, so I backed off.

But in the beginning, when it was first starting, when the cries came out of that bus, ... well, I choked up several times.

Especially when I peeked in and saw the wife, like this.