After I dropped my excited son, who had been clutching the birthday-present -- a Dino-pop-up-book he had selected himself the evening before -- for his friend (the party would be after-school) of at school, I was cycling along the Marnixstraat. (If you are unfamiliar with the neighborhood, see this map.) Cycling ahead of me was a teenage-girl, I think, with a headset, who was acting in halting fashion at the T-crossing with the Marnixplein. She had right of way, but she seemed unsure to take it ahead of the (very big) city-bus, which was indicating it would turn right. (It's also possible she was in her own musical or phone universe--oblivious to anything going on her around her.) If she was uncertain, I didn't blame her because that intersection is notorious for a number of lethal accidents. Even so, in general, the street-smart rule among Amsterdam cyclists is not to hesitate and take right of way, regardless of the traffic-rules, and if there are tourists standing in the way to make a high pitched clinging noise with the cycle bell mounted on the handlebar (see this instructive report by Dave Barry). The blue Mercedes, stretched city-bus waited patiently for her, and by the time the bus turned right I had caught up with it, also turning right onto the Marnixplein. We both had to stop at the traffic light at the Nassaukade. As the traffic-light turned green, I looked ahead into the Frederik Hendrik Plantsoen. A man was standing in the park alongside the bike-path. Except for occasional dog-walkers or a school-kid this park tends to be very quiet in the morning. I didn't pay much attention to him.
The bus got ahead of me; maybe five to ten meters or so. To my annoyance the man crossed onto the bike-path oblivious of my approach. But before I could say anything -- my cycle bell was broken -- he looked straight into the path of the bus, took a step forward and turned face-forward into the approaching bus. There was a thud. The bus halted. I halted just ahead of the bus to look at the man, who was lying motionless on the ground. He was not an office-worker, but he also did not seem especially disheveled. It seemed he had fallen straight backwards. Although I didn't see any blood, I assumed he was dead at once--judging by the crack he had made in the city-bus-window (see the picture below).
My immediate thought was that the man had tried to commit suicide.
I looked into the bus and made eye-contact with the visibly shaken bus-driver. He was talking into his drivers's microphone. He opened the door, and I saw him calling his dispatch and requesting an ambulence and police. Then he informed his passengers that they had an accident. I didn't hear any of this (the bus driver later told me about the protocol he had followed)--I was trying to call for an ambulance, too, while watching another witness telling folk not to touch the motionless man, although he clearly was touching the man; I wondered if he was a doctor. Somewhere, out of nowhere -- later none of the remaining witnesses nor the EMT personnel nor the police-offers could figure this out -- a blanket appeared and was slid under the man's head. By the time the ambulance appeared, it was clear that the man was not dead (yet). The police had already arrived earlier, and re-directed traffic and started questioning witnesses (including me). I realized I was in shock myself when rather than telling the officers what I had seen, I offered my interpretation (the man seemed as if he was trying to commit suicide). The bus driver -- a heavy set man -- instructed the passengers out of the bus (they were directed to the stop ahead), reminding them to check out with their transit cards. As we dispersed, I told him to get professional help and instructed him on my sister's recipe for trauma recovery: repeat the story not just until everybody around you is sick of hearing it, but until you are yourself. He told me in a resigned tone that he was familiar with the drill.
At that point another remaining witness told me that the man was an alcoholic. I looked at him, and thought that was not a better interpretation of what I had seen. But I did wonder if, perhaps, the man had a drug-induced temporary psychosis (i.e., a bad trip). Perhaps he would live.*
Yes, the headline above this post is a bit of a bait-and-switch. For most people "yesterday's events" took place in Paris. I, too, followed the news, the unfolding media reports, and my friends's reactions with numbness, all along wondering why I had perceived 'a suicide' when I saw was a man step in front of an approaching bus. But now that I write this, I also hope that the government officials in France (and elsewhere in Europe) are in some respects like that Amsterdam city-bus driver who at the moment of impact stopped at once, followed protocol, and took care of the safety of his passengers before deciding on what to do next. So, I hope French law-enforcement can capture and bring to trial the murderous perpetrators before we implement new policy.
*I spoke to the police (they questioned me on my statement for the official report) just after I first published the post, and it seems the man is still alive while being cared for in the hospital (and also he had negligible alcohol at the time of the accident).
Comments