This latest foray into the blackest night…

The dark side of so many things is something I cannot help but see, and therefore, this latest foray into the blackest night is no exception. As I continue my current train of thought, it seems I’m not the only one who sees the sinister side of that magnificent metal monstrosity of the bay. The day after the walk, I was showing my mom some of the pictures and videos I took. My mom has what I would describe as “bridge anxiety”, but not a full blown phobia. Yet it is such that she has no love for the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and its ilk. As we were reviewing my epic morning journey, she said something to the effect of “Ugh, how could he do that?”. And I knew exactly what – and who – she meant. He, referring to John’s friend – and her friend, who took that fatal plunge from the span of the Key Bridge so many years ago. While I did not intend to stir up any bad memories for my mom, it seems I had inadvertently done so. She said all she could think about when seeing some of my pictures was the grisly fate of the Key Bridge jumper. Then I asked if she would have ever been able to, or would have wanted to, walk across the Bay Bridge. To which she made a most surprising reply. The answer, as I had figured, was no. But not for the reason I had assumed. She would not want to walk across the Bay Bridge (and perhaps any other large bridge) because, as she put it, “someone might jump”! Her main fear was seeing someone do the unthinkable and end their life on that great and sweeping span.

I told my mom that there was a very heavy law enforcement presence there that morning, especially on the highest spans of the bridge. I said that they were there doing everything they could to prevent the metal monster from claiming another victim. Clearly they are very familiar with its penchant for providing a means of self annihilation. And my mom isn’t the only one who has such notions.

When I went to visit my husband in the hospital after I had done the walk, I told him all about what I had experienced and seen. I made mention of the small army of police on the bridge, and the ones in boats below it. And he replied instantly, without pausing for thought, saying that’s “To stop people from jumping”. He never knew anyone who jumped off a bridge, but for some reason that was the first idea to appear in his mind. Even back when I was planning to walk the New River Gorge Bridge my husband made a comment about people jumping off of that bridge. I told him about the safety harness walkers had to wear, and again, the first thing out of his mouth was “That is so no one jumps”. So is my mother, and my husband, just suffering from some morbid fixation revolving around bridges? Honestly I thought that such dark notions were endemic only to my own mind. I can sort of see why my mom might gravitate to such gloomy thoughts considering what happened at the Key Bridge. But for my husband, I suppose one day I will have to question him about that. He can become quite evasive and even defensive on some topics, so I will have to broach the subject carefully.

This makes me wonder if perhaps many more of the walkers and runners there on that Sunday also had entertained these ghoulish thoughts. Maybe I wasn’t the only one acutely aware of the elephant in the room. I suppose it all might depend on a person’s perspective. Honesty I can say that when I visited the Golden Gate Bridge in the late 90’s my mind never “went there”. This despite the fact that it is one of the deadliest man made structures in the entire world. And this visit to San Francisco occurred only a few years after the infamous Key Bridge incident. My mom was also there with me when I drove across that orange metal monster. If she was triggered by it, she said nothing. As for me, I think I had successfully blacked out that horrible tragedy not long after it happened. Where it stayed sealed away until that fateful day back in March of this year. In my mind before that time, jumpers (from bridges or other structures) were simply very rare one-offs. Of course, little did I know then that I know now.