I saw its darkness

There is but one other major thing I’ve yet to touch on with regards to that epic walk I took last Sunday. This is the elephant in the room, or perhaps, the elephant on the bridge… It is always there, not just on this metal monster that spans bay, but on so many other bridges. No one wants to acknowledge the elephant or look upon it, or even think about it. This is the dark side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, which was thankfully hidden from me when I was a child traveling to Ocean City and the eastern shore. Normally this darkness remains hidden, ignored and even officially covered up. But last Sunday it was impossible to ignore, at least for me. I can’t help but wonder how many other participants took notice of the efforts present to address the elephant. Surely they would have noticed, but would they have understood what they saw?

First were the emergency call boxes posted on both spans of the bridge. These, the infamous blue signs present on so many bridges, were hard to miss. Yes, they are there for motorists with flats, breakdowns or other problems, but they are also there for the monster’s intended victims. One last chance for them to reach out and hopefully be saved from death far below. Then, there was the law enforcement and security presence. I could have sworn there must have been a huge all you can eat doughnut buffet somewhere nearby as I can’t recall the last time I’ve seen so many cops in one place. There were also police boats in the water, circling round and round beneath the span as they patrolled the turgid waters. Just about every few hundred feet stood at least one cop, watching the participants like a hawk on a telephone pole scanning for its prey. Medics were also stationed on the bridge, just in case someone had a medical emergency. Certainly it can be said that all of this law enforcement and first responder presence was there to keep order and provide help if needed. I’m sure most have heard of errant fools who have tried to get the perfect selfie and have paid for their efforts with their lives. Such a security force would go far in deterring that sort of highly risky behavior. This is perhaps also why participants were not allowed to bring selfie sticks.

But there is that other reason, the one nobody wants to give thought to. This is because the Chesapeake Bay Bridge is a blood splattered metal monster that has facilitated the demise of hundreds of victims. It is a well known death machine for the depressed and the disturbed. While such is unfathomable for the average person, the ghoulish truth is that there are always a few who would welcome such a chance to sacrifice their lives to the iron demon of the bay. The real clincher as to why such a force was present were the police boats constantly circling below the span. Given that this was a walk/run across the bridge, for what other reason might they have rescue personnel down on the water below? And, these police boats traveled back and forth only beneath the bay-facing side of the span. That in and of itself is a major hint that it is the right hand lane from which the vast majority of jumpers take the fatal plunge. Which of course makes sense as someone in a vehicle would logically pull over and stop in the slow lane in order to jump. Everything was in place just in case someone was to do the unthinkable, or attempt it. Thankfully no one did. But all of that security just showcases the dark nature and the grisly history of the Bay Bridge. It is an aspect that mostly remains hidden but cannot be separated from the whole.

Walking the iron monster, part two

I was still able to enjoy the journey across this mighty bridge despite being reminded of its sinister side. But even so, I could not help but imagine those who had fallen victim to its fatal invitation. As I peeked over the edge of the jersey wall I could imagine that view being one of the last sights a jumper might see before they plummet before crashing into the water’s surface. And then, if not killed upon impact, they quickly become enveloped by the bay’s grey, murky waters and sink into its depths. Some survive and are rescued, but most perish. As I made it to the start of the main suspension span, I looked over at the near mirror image of the westbound span. I took some photos of its towers, and for a moment I looked down upon the base of the piers. Those who jump at the “wrong” spot at the towers sometimes land upon these concrete platforms. This has happened before, just as it happened to John’s friend the Key Bridge jumper on that bridge. In my mind I could see a shattered body lying prostate and motionless upon one of those bases. Warm blood would still be dripping onto the cold concrete, forming pools beneath a pulverized skull. Might some such victims have landed on their back, their sightless eyes staring up at the span above? Or might they have struck the pier the other way, face smashed into the unforgiving stony surface? It is a most chilling thought to imagine the demise of those who have unwittingly performed a blood sacrifice to the iron monster. And John’s friend who did the same at the Key Bridge. The metal monster of the bay, over the years, has accepted the blood and the tears of many. It is the nature of this man made metal beast from which those who cross must be protected.