Spent the majority of my weekend in the company of strangers - fantastic strangers, all like-minded people. Musically, anyway. I bought tickets to three Less Than Jake shows in as many days. It was incredible. Although, the last show (Sunday night), I sat in the back for most of, due to my apparent insta-flu. This isn't really what I intend to write about though, it's just ... they always say start on a positive note. So there, I had a fantastic weekend in the musical sense.
Saturday, Jon-Michael and I took Kenneth and Susan. It was probably around 2:30 in the morning, and we were headed down 41S toward home. Well, let me back up. J.M. and Kenneth were ready to go before Susan and I were - we were hungry. So we ordered burgers from the food wagon outside the bar. They were amazing. I made a comment while we were on 121 out of Gainesville about how I couldn't believe we still hadn't made it to the railroad tracks yet. Ten seconds later, there we were, train passing, us delayed. Delay number two.
From here on, it appears to be clear skies and smooth sailing. We're cheerfully recapping the night's high points - them playing both Great American Sharpshooter AND Gainesville Rock City, and the fact that Ken-Dog got a jello shot with Roger and friends for his birthday, and more, when we come to this now blurry moment. (this is why I've decided to write it out, it's only been two days and it's blurry already.)
Now, there's something big in the road. Big and dark and impassable. And I realize, there are two of them - lots of smoke, debris, and two bigger-than-us objects blocking the road. I slow down. I turn the radio off and I realize - this is a head-on collision. I put my window down as I pull off to the side, still behind - a good distance away from the wreckage. "Is everybody okay up there?"
Seems like a silly question, but I need to be sure I'm not hallucinating. When that last word leaves my mouth, I hear it - the "oh my god! oh my god!" screams of a woman from (hopefully inside) one of the vehicles. I put my hand on Susan - "you call 911." Then I hear JM, from the seat behind me say, "Alison wait, be careful," but it's too late and I've jumped out of the car and am running full-speed to the still smoking vehicle.
I ask for a total passenger count, confirm they're both accounted for, ask for injuries - he cannot inhale deeply without extreme pain. Probably broken ribs. Said his arm was broken too - and he had a substantial amount of blood on his body and clothes. She was having chest pains and swelling, and she screamed at me, "did you do this to us?!" I calmed her, said I just came up behind them and was here to help. I asked if he could move, his legs were pinned and his door was certainly not opening on it's own. I said help was on the way and asked them to try and stay calm while I ran to the other vehicle.
It felt like half an hour had already gone by, but it was merely moments - probably not even a full two minutes, to be honest. The driver of the other vehicle, fully slumped over her steering wheel, though, as I leaned her back - no real facial injuries, was going in and out of consciousness. I asked her name - Michelle. I asked if there was anyone in the car with her - no. I asked if she could feel any injuries or if she could move. She did not answer, she just kept begging me to get her out of the car. Her door was also completely caved in - there was no getting her out of this side. I just kept trying to calm her and explain that until we could assess her injuries, she was safer in the vehicle.
And then she said the most chilling words I thought I would hear of that night, "I need out of this seat, I'm on probation and I don't have a license."
Pause for dramatic effect. My entire family, minus my Dad who was probably terrified at the news, was hit head on by a drunk driver 25 years ago. My mom and I pinned in the vehicle, which burst into flames instantly, and my brother and sister - he, a strapping old age of nine, was left to save the lives of all four of us - and the drunk driver and his friend.
Now, I'm standing outside the obliterated driver's side of this massive, white SUV, and I hear her say those ominous words and, even with my disdain for this behavior, without knowing the truth and without time to even consider it, all I had to say to her was, "Michelle, I'm not worried about your license, I'm worried about your life. I need you to stay with me now." Then she lost consciousness again. I kept smelling fire and couldn't see it. I knew the ground was covered in gasoline, but there were no flames and I couldn't find the source of the smell. And then she regained consciousness and she screamed at me, "my legs are on fire, get me out of this car - open my door!"
I screamed for Kenneth to help me get her out, and at this point, I truly start to panic - my body is in overdrive and I'm moving faster than my brain can process. This woman, according to her words, is burning right before my very eyes and I can do nothing about it. We lose her again and I start screaming her name. With shards of glass everywhere, I've now climbed into the passenger seat and am trying two things - 1. to lay her seat back and pull her legs up from the floor boards or 2. to pull her lifeless body from the driver's seat, over the center console, and out of the passenger door. It was a feat of epic proportions and I failed. She was too heavy and lifeless for me to lift and the electronics in her seat were not functioning.
Susan came to me, "trade me, you give them directions, I'll get her out." Susan is trained in the medical field, though not really prepared for life/death situations. I give the operator the best description of where we are - there are no cross streets, no signs, not even street lights. I keep begging him to get someone to us fast, we have potentially life-threatening injuries, we're in the middle of a dark road, on the low side of a hill, and there is gasoline pouring from one of the vehicles, which also seems to have some sort of electrical fire.
All I know is we had just crossed the Levy/Marion county line. Jon-Michael remembered seeing the sign. They say they've sent units from both counties. The operator keeps asking me for updates and I keep giving them. He asks the makes of the vehicles, the names of the people, their conditions, the fire. He keeps me talking and I keep answering his questions and keep asking again, and again, and again, where is the help?
I'm behind the vehicles now, pacing - keeping an ear open for traffic coming, the good thing about how dark it is, I can see headlights from a far off distance. I wave people down as best I can as they come through, many of them don't even stop to help - they just drive around the scene, through the grass, and keep going.
I'm pacing in the grass now. And in the light of someone's headlights, I see two half-empty liquor bottles and a grocery bag full of Natty Ice tall-boy empties. I motion for JM and we stand together in shock. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me. I was too busy operating in fear for her life. Jon-Michael went back to her car to help.
Kenneth, Susan, and Jon-Michael are trying to convince Michelle to help them get her out of the car. She's crying, she's burning, and she's not staying conscious. But they're working on her. Then I hear Kenneth say something startling - "you're putting yourself and everyone who is trying to help you in danger, you need to get out of this car now."
Then he walks toward me, "she definitely has some kind of fracture or break in her leg." I walk back over and then I can smell it. Now that's moved around a little and talking more, the liquor smell is so strong I wonder if I get a contact buzz. But she rolls herself to the passenger seat, and Kenneth and I pull her to the ground and drag her away from the vehicle. She is, of course, screaming. I'm sure something was hurting, but getting her out of a burning vehicle was the best thing we could do for her. Moments later, a Levy county deputy arrives.
And once he's there, they all start showing up - from both directions. Fire trucks, ambulance, EMT, Florida Highway Patrol, it was amazing. Suddenly they were all there. The four of us take to the sidelines and let the professionals get to work. They used the jaws of life to get Gene out of the truck and they take him, Bev, and Michelle to Shands for treatment.
After we pulled her to safety, Susan went to the other vehicle to make sure Bev and Gene were still calm and nothing had gotten worse. We both feel guilty for spending more of our energy on the woman who seems to have caused the accident and than on the victims of her habit. Logically speaking though, it would have done more harm to move the two of them than good. They were clearly in less danger inside their vehicle, Michelle was not.
The deputy from Levy comes over to talk with us - he reluctantly lets us know that he knows Michelle and he is the reason she was on probation to begin with. He is saddened, but not surprised by the fact she caused this accident. Sometime before this conversation happened two men appeared from north of us, claiming to be employees of a plant just over the hill who attempted to take her keys earlier when she was caught doing donuts in the plant parking lot. They came down to happily tell law enforcement they would give a statement.
While the rescue team is working on getting Gene and Bev out, I asked what it was Michelle said to Kenneth that made him get so stern. Jon-Michael said she said, "just let me die here, I don't want to go to prison." When a person says something like that to you, you must take pause. What kind of dark hell is she living in? And what would make her think, I would care enough for her miserable existence to let her get off so easily as to not face the consequences of her actions here? But more so than that - what would make her think I would be willing to live the rest of my colorful, beautiful existence with her blood on my hands, knowing I didn't do everything I could to get her out of that vehicle tonight? I don't owe her anything - not even the death she pleaded for.
I believe we were delayed for a reason - both times. I believe we were meant to come up on that accident just after it happened, not have passed by before it happened, or worse, be the victims of it. I believe we did all the right things prior to the rescue team showing up and that belief is supported by 911 operator I was speaking with and every rescue team member who talked with us before we left.
I also believe I dodged a very similar, but much scarier bullet Friday evening on my way to Gainesville. As I crested a hill (this was the night before the accident) on the same highway, a silver convertible also began up the hill, in my direction, in my lane. She forced me off the road at full speed. Evidently she had passed a long line of cars and underestimated how long it would take her to get back in. I was so shaken I couldn't speak for a few minutes on that one. I've never driven full speed on the shoulder before. Thank God there weren't any signs or trees ... or fences. My God.
Oh, and for an extra bit of fun, I found this: http://mugshots.com/US-Counties/Florida/Levy-County-FL/Michelle-Vanhoose.7866164/details/
Michelle Vanhoose, in all her glory. Ugh.
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