I like manly men. I admit it. Cliche though it may be, I have a bit of a thing for firefighters.
So today, there was an accident outside of the library. Tara came rushing up to the desk and said, "Can someone call 911?" And I said, "What happened?" And she said, "A motorcycle accident."
So I dialled 911 and waited on the line, gave them my city and address, and they asked, "Is this about the motorcycle accident?" I said yes. "Are you with the body?" (maybe it's just my memory in which they said, body, because they must have said something that would indicate more life, aliveness, than the depressing word body). I said, "No, I'm calling from inside the library."
"We have lots of help on the way. Thanks for calling." (Although I don't think he actually thanked me... I'm not sure how we hung up).
Some moments (who ever know how many) later, sirens were there. I looked out the window and saw pieces of red motorcycle and people surrounding someone who lay on the ground. I didn't look for details. Went back to work.
A few minutes later, we're all around the window watching a little bit.
"I love firefighters," I said. "At least there's something of an..." and then I looked down, ashamed. I was going to say "upside to the accident." But I felt so guilty. My boss said, "It's okay, Angela. We all have our natural reactions."