At a large and very busy intersection in San Diego, in the far left-turn lane, I rolled to a stop on a green arrow, my left turn preempted by the blaring sounds and rotating lights of an emergency vehicle. It was coming from the perpendicular direction. I could see the ambulance struggling to make its way through the congested traffic. As a former wife of a firefighter, I am hyper-aware and sensitive to these moments. I know what I am supposed to do. In this case, be still and don't get in their way. There was nowhere to go but forward. That would have put me directly in their path. It was also hard to gauge how long it would take for them to break through. My decision to stay put at a green arrow was solid.
Behind me, cars were honking for me to move. From their vantage point they couldn't see what I saw. The guy behind me, whom I could see him through my rear view mirror, was frantically waving me on. Another man pulled up alongside me, window down, shouting with animated pointing finger, "Go, go go!" What he didn't see either was the ambulance coming from his blinded direction.
What I couldn't see, but was now coming into the chaotic script, was a second ambulance in my left-turn lane, also in code three (both lights and sirens) some three or four cars back. It was a strange time- and space-altering moment, as I watched this scene play out like a bad conversation. The involved parties unable to see or understand the other's point of view or perspective. In reflection, this event reminded me of the Academy Award winning movie "Crash." A collision of lives, scenes and points of view, vignetted brilliantly on the big screen. This however, was playing out in real-time and in my life.
Ambulance #1, as I will call it, finally made its way through, I followed quickly behind, pulling over safely to the right to allow ambulance #2 free passage, each on its way to the needed. I was left shaken by the thought of what could have happened with any given edit to the situation and the frustration of not being able to communicate to those behind me what was happening outside their range of site. Especially the guy passing me with finger pointing and shouting, "Go, go go!" He never saw the ambulance my action was responding to. I imagine he was thinking something along the lines of "Women drivers!" More questions swirling around the after math in my mind. Did the two ambulance drivers know they were there competing for control of the intersection and civilian obedience? Did those behind me get that ‘Aha!’ moment when they saw what I had been waiting for? Did the "Go, go, go!" guy long ahead of the chaos ultimately pull over to the right with both ambulances screaming free from the tangled mess? All questions remain unanswered.
Minutes rendered in slow motion with moments of panic and secondary reactions to the panic—not having the benefit of the whole picture in wide screen, or hovering above the tangled conversation at the intersection like a bird.
The chaos did not end in a physical collision, but one more transparent in nature and one for the books of how situations can go strangely awry—depending on your point of view, presence and participation in the moment.
Staying grounded amidst the chaos, to the truths that played out before me. It served everyone well today, at the very least, where worlds almost collided during one intersection of life.
And I wonder how many times this plays out in our own lives, partial views, limited experience, narrow perspectives – all getting in the way of our fuller, bigger-picture view of any given situation. Ever happen to you?
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