Slow mo

Wednesday 25 November. Bus to town and get off across the road from the Manchester Street carpark, not that it is there except for rubble. I walk down Gloucester Street, and down New Regent Street.

Probably stop to admire this.

Buy some white chocolate and macadamia cookies at Mrs Higgins. Walk down Armagh, then onto Colombo by the Town Hall. Then, as usual, scoot down Colombo to the corner of Bealey and Colombo Street.

I like to keep left and cross from Pepperberry to the 24 hour surgery on the corner. It feels slightly less exposed, though I usually look over my right shoulder as the traffic behind me has a green light when I go across Bealey Avenue.

I have my headphones on, and cross alongside another pedestrian. We are about halfway across when there is a ruckus. I turn right and see a large vehicle, maybe a 4WD rocketing through the air, dragging a large piece of metal with it, and wires behind.  I feel it whistle past. Smashing sounds, and people screaming. The air is full of dirt as the vehicle has ripped up part of the verge, and it seems the metal is part of a traffic light. The car hits into the eastbound traffic stopped at the lights.

The other pedestrian and I duck down and grab each other, then scuttle off the road together, back to the corner of Bealey and Colombo outside Pepperberry. We are stunned, occasionally hugging each other, aware of people coming from all directions, and a phalanx forming on someone on the other side of the road from us. We don’t know if it is someone from the vehicle, or a pedestrian who took the parallel route to us.

People are quasi-traffic controllers, standing on each roadway into the accident.  From the 24 hour surgery, medical staff come running out with a gurney.  I ring my partner. My legs shake shake shake.

A journalist asks questions, on his way to an appointment.

I exchange name and numbers with my pedestrian comrade.

Lyn G bikes past and walks me home. I talk to the police on my way past. I think I am holding something of his, sunglasses? but he just wants his official police pen back.

I am home, hugs, more hugs, tweets, thoughtfulnesses from others, a rosé  with a kind friend. Worry worry for the person in the road, and anyone else in that mad place. What even happened?