Sunday, January 25, 2009
"Help, help us, somebody help!"
It was one of the most scary things I've ever heard. I jumped out of bed and ran to my window, opening it, trying to assess if it was safe to go investigate. My worst fear was that this woman was being attacked, or raped.
It was a car wreck. My roomate and I both ran out as his girlfriend dialed 911. "Grab the first aid kit", Joe reminded me. I ran out, and the pictures tell the tale. An SUV had hit a parked car flipped, and the passengers were trying to crawl out. Other men had gotten out just before and got the first woman pulled out. Coolant was on the ground, and radio music poured from the speakers.
I did not smell gas, thank God. I held the driver door open as a man who'd climbed up on top of the vehicle pulled the the four occupants out, one by one. I told the man on top to reach in and turn off the ignition and I turned off the headlights. Like I said, I didn't smell gas, but I didn't want to find out the hard way.
No one was badly injured. The driver had a cut on the bridge of his nose, and had blood in his mouth. I put on my latex gloves and wiped his blood off with gauze, then used alcohol to sterilize the cut that was visible. I wasn't sure what to do for the inside of his mouth. (He'd probably bitten down on his cheek or tongue when he impacted.) By that time, the fire department and the police showed up, and they took over. I was glad to have helped, and one officer even told me thanks for my help.
I don't really feel like I did anything major, but just having someone care for you in an incident like that probably was helpful in keeping him calm. I made him sit down while I cleaned him up.
Anyway, it's weird to think that my whole building ran out to help. Northridge hit Southern California at the same time of morning--I can only imagine what that must be like after an experience like this.