It became a hideous thing

There are of course many bridges that people jump from to end their lives. Some have an impressive body count, some have only a handful of deaths, and of course some fall in the middle. But I always thought that the Key Bridge was the only one that ever had the blood of a jumper spilled upon it. It never occurred to me that anything that awful could ever happen. People who leap from bridges over bodies of water are supposed to land in the water… Or so it would seem. It’s bad enough that the victim dies from striking the water and then possibly drowning if the impact doesn’t kill. But the idea that someone could actually land upon some part of the bridge structure and be bashed to death against concrete was totally horrifying in so many ways. That sort of thing just isn’t supposed to happen. The Key Bridge became a hideous thing once I found out the details of that death.

Ironically, the New River Gorge Bridge is one that seems to be free of that dubious distinction. This is because of the kind of bridge that it is – an arch spanning the gorge where no part of the structure is directly below. Anyone jumping from the road above would land in the river or on its shores. A grisly end for sure, but at least the bridge itself stands clear of the carnage. If someone was to jump (or fall) from the maintenance walkway they would surely be bashed to bits by striking the structure of the bridge on the way down, but I’ve not found any evidence of that happening. The New River Gorge Bridge has enabled and presided over many fatal jumps, but to my knowledge it has never actually been splattered with the blood of any of its victims. Now that I know that the Bay Bridge also shares this infamous distinction that I thought was peculiar only to the Key Bridge, I cannot help but wonder how many other bridges are also bloodstained. How many have tasted the blood of those who have taken the fatal plunge? Certainly those two can’t be the only ones….There seem to be more than a few that are built in such a way where if someone jumped at the “wrong” spot, they might just land on the base of a pier. Perhaps this is more likely to happen if they jump at night and cannot see where they might land. However, the Key Bridge jumper made his fateful leap in the middle of the day. Either he didn’t look before he jumped or he simply did not care anymore.

From a very young age I was able to see the darkness in things, and it didn’t take me long to figure out how to categorize such distinctions. I realized that there were good things, bad things and those that fell somewhere in between. Angels were good, and devils were bad. But for those things in the middle, there was some sort of balance between good and evil, friendly and hostile, dangerous and safe. I placed things in one of the three categories, labeling them accordingly. More than a few things I considered to be totally bad or evil, with no redeeming qualities. But looking back, I realize I did so because that was something I was afraid of and I was blind to any goodness within. The furnace in the house I grew up in made scary noises when it ran, sounding for all the world like I imagined a fire breathing dragon might sound as it drew a breath and let loose with a blistering torch of flame. It was evil, terrifying and was a small scale basement dwelling monster. But yet I always had a nice, warm house to come home to in winter. I could not see the positive aspect of that dreadful cellar lurking dragon. I was afraid of it, and it was out to get me, and that was that.

So for me, the Bay Bridge was good. It got me and my family to the beach and back, always and in safety. But the Key Bridge was evil – I dreaded my first unexpected drive across it, and then, it was bathed in the blood of someone I knew of. The Key Bridge did almost redeem itself in my mind once I realized there was nothing to be afraid of when I crossed it. But the latter event forever clinched it as a bad thing. It was indelibly tainted and stained forever more. Even though now I know that the reality is far more complex than that. Especially since the apparently “good and safe” Bay Bridge has also had blood spilled upon it.

In so many ways it seems that the Bay Bridge is the ultimate and quintessential gore-drenched steel and concrete horror. For some, it’s the bridge that nightmares are made of. The deadly accidents, the many who have jumped to their deaths, and then it being bestowed with the unenviable title of “the scariest bridge in America” all lend credence to its legendary and notorious status. Apparently, it truly is Maryland’s most monumental and malevolent metal monster! So if I am able to walk its eastbound span this fall, I will do so knowing its history in its entirety. As was the case with the New River Gorge Bridge. But unlike that one, the Bay Bridge is a part of my past, a much bigger part than the Key Bridge. And I had never even heard of West Virginia’s monstrous iron beast until a couple of months ago. This will be a much longer walk than the one I completed in West Virginia, as the Bay Bridge is roughly four and a half miles long. That’s an even greater time to contemplate such thoughts, and a long time to take in the scenery and study yet another monster up close.