Watching tragedy go by

It's been interesting to watch how much tragedy draws people in. I've heard the term 'disaster porn' bandied about a lot in the last few days. I've alternated between being unable to stay away from media sources, and wanting to put my hands over my ears and hide in a cave to escape them. I've gotten mad at the national news for invading my hometown (and getting so much wrong about the bridge and the city). I've retraced my footsteps in my mind to find the last time that I drove across the bridge (Friday July 27th), but have gotten annoyed at people who have made a big deal over how their stepsister's boyfriend drove across the river three days before and omg he could have died!! Most of all, I keep coming back to the pictures, poring over them, trying to come to terms with the fact that this is real, these aren't photoshopped, there's the city I've come to call home and the end of the bridge I've gone over countless times hanging there like a snapped twig. I've received e-mail from friends and acquaintances asking if I was okay. I got e-mail from my alma mater's alumni office. (My darkly morbid side wonders if they'll follow my reply up with a reminder to donate. Because, you know, it would be a shame if one of our other structurally deficient bridges collapsed with me on it and I hadn't gotten in my donation to the 2008 Fundd yet.)

Living in the Twin Cities I've come to take crossings of the Mississippi for granted. I remember when the olstad's were visiting some years back and we went down to the riverfront and walked across the stone arch bridge, a pedestrian bridge, near downtown. They were awed by crossing the Mississippi on foot. Being on the east side, then the west side, than back to the east side. Crossing the Mississippi is just part of life here. I cross it to go see my parents, I cross it to go hang out with Rogers, I cross it to go to the Supertarget and my bank. Going over some bridges, I notice the river. The Hennepin Avenue bridge is a big, beautiful suspension bridge that has great views off to either side. The Highland Avenue/46th Street bridge has beautiful views of the cliffs rising up on either side of the river. The Wabasha Street bridge in Saint Paul is also nice, with cute little red lampposts throwing light towards the docks at night. I've never noticed when I was going over the I-35W bridge - it was that well-integrated into the freeway (and perhaps didn't have good views over the edge). I couldn't even remember exactly where along the freeway it went over, and was surprised that the exits leading off towards the U were blocked off along with the freeway. I did not commute on the bridge daily, but I went over it regularly. I-35W is the closest freeway to me, and I usually use it for any north-south forays that are more than a couple of miles.

Since the collapse, the bridges around it have also been blocked off, along with many of the streets. Today, at 1 PM, they opened the stone arch bridge to foot traffic. I really wanted to go look, but felt like I was kind of sick for wanting to. I've never been one to gawk at accidents on the freeway, and this felt kind of like that. But most freeway accidents don't get plastered all over the international news, and I wanted to see it for myself, because despite all of the pictures I've looked at it still doesn't quite feel real. I had dinner with my a friend who lives over near the fairground in Saint Paul, and had to get back across to Minneapolis anyways, so I took University Ave back across town. University passes over the freeway right where it broke. Looking down onto the freeway you can see where the road just.. ends. I then parked and walked over to the stone arch bridge. Hundreds of people were on the riverfront trying to get a view. And they were from all walks of life - aging subarbanites, huge Hmong families, couples out walking the dog, and lots and lots of people drawn there by themselves to gaze off into the distance at our broken bridge, letting the reality sink in. Walking out onto the stone arch bridge I was reminded of a bit of gallows humour from ethel. The new Guthrie theater has this weird protuberance that stretches out towards the river. It's been nicknamed the bridge to nowhere. In ethel's words - "at least now the bridge to nowhere has company." From my vantage point, I could see the broken end of the bridge on the east bank hanging off into the water and it looked like the bridge to nowhere was stretching out towards it, trying to reach across the Mississippi River to touch it.

So, bridge, RIP.