Minneaapolis, I-35W bridge: Nick were deciding where to dine when everyone shuts up and turn up the volume on your TV. We recognize the four smokestacks of the production of steam, the new theater, the dome stadium, the complex of mills and curve of the Mississippi. It is one aerial helicopter flying over a cloud of dust, lapped at the right margin by black flames. On-screen slide titles that identify the crash site in I-35W bridge over the highway, the backbone of the city which connects downtown Minneapolis with that of Saint Paul. The bridge runs over the Mississippi in the fall and has pulled into the water traffic of the five: the summer has only limited the number of machines involved. About half an hour later, when we hear the news, there is already a victim. Outside the window the sirens go more often. The bridge is about 800 meters from the right and the bike should be a moment, but the mass of people and cars blocking every move. You can approach the scene with different points of view: the bridge has collapsed in the historic part of town and is built close to a second highest bridge (Cedar Avenue Bridge), which relieves congestion. A third smaller bridge and the pedestrian is at a hundred yards from the two. The area is easily accessible in a green area, the park of gold medals, and on both sides of the Mississippi river where there is a lot of jogging or cycling. We approach from below and then decide to get on Cedar to see the collapse. On the side, what is striking are the emergency vehicles of all kinds, from air boats with long square van that can accommodate small operating rooms. At the edge of the area, gather suffered the bulk of the crowd, mostly university students who seek in every way to help by providing blankets, food, drinks. In the confusion I find myself holding a lemonade. There are groups of bikers in Harley Davidson, priests who organize prayer circles in the grass and among the plants, usually solitary preacher who incited the sacred hymn, many amateurs with telescopic targets that jostle for the best location, crew Journalists in search of the witness. Up close, I impressed the coaches, trucks and cars still in the balance with the nose pointed already sunk in the mud or muddy. The flames come from a truck and while we are looking at a corpse is recovered, the speed of the operation and confusion of the rubble, emergency vehicles and hide the details, but there is clearly a stretcher with a waterproof sheet that disappears in an ambulance. When we reach the Cedar, the scene is more appropriate: what impresses is that the bridge has not collapsed one section, but all three sections defined by the piers, from shore to shore, in a general collapse. The two pillars still supporting abutments of the road, is now pointing dramatically to the bottom. In between, the mud is actually a palta water and soil cement in which carcasses popping away. Among the victims there may be children because at the time of the collapse was passing a school bus. From the elevated position, you notice the traffic lights of the cars and the highway that continues uninterrupted until the two edges of the bridge, forming an impressive tail. We stay until nine to wander in the area. Someone suffers, participates in drama and despair, and know (as I have noted many times) that in general to do so are mainly immigrants, perhaps with greater empathy because they are more accustomed to the difficulty and therefore able to share the concern of others. Some wonder why the news does not make assumptions or do not investigate the reasons for the collapse: from what we hear live, reporters are limited to describe the dynamic and questioning witnesses in different ways that say they experienced the feeling of an earthquake (the land near the bridge vibrated and you could hear noises deep). My lab mates are overwhelmed by calls from family members and find no better example to describe the psychosis September 11: Even if the television all the time repeated that this is not a terrorist attack, each of them must ensure that there were no outbreaks or bombs, and that is not near the critical zone (although on balance we spend about 3 hours). When we decide to go, it's already dark, the section of the bridge was not lit and the street lamps along the river are very far apart. They say that recovery operations will be massively reduced and continued until tomorrow morning. The victims were up to seven: let someone lights candles and bouquets of flowers. What I know is that last week for the party in the building we have come to the park to see the fireworks: it was the day that celebrates the city of Minneapolis water as a source of life and takes up an ancient Indian ritual. From the pedestrian bridge I watched the lights rise from the same tract that is now rubble. Now it seems to me that the Father of Waters has taken a bit 'of that life which they believe is capable of giving.
0 comments:
Post a Comment