Am I jaded or just plain lazy?
I'm on the night shift tonight and was happily procrastinating on a sustainable development story (even though the Sustainable Development Project Team did blow my mind with some of their comments during our interview the other day) when a dear co-worker called in about a story. She'd been riding home and was diverted by the Police on Palmetto Road because of yet another road traffic collision.
Just as I was erupting into a tirade about the frequency of RTCs on Bermuda's roads these days and how unless someone had died I wasn't interested, she informed me this one was special because it appeared that the driver of the car had actually run the rider of the bike down.
Damn, I thought. I'll definitely get in trouble if I don't go look into this one. So, grumbling away to myself, I stomped out to my car and peeled off (I mean, checked both ways before using my indicators and pulling smoothly out into the road - I swear, Dad).
It was as I was musing over the intricacies of Bermuda road names (Marsh Folly Road turns into Palmetto Road for no apparent rhyme or reason) and just before I saw the scene of the collision that I realised I've changed in the past two years. Had I been forced to rush out of the office on a breaking news story like this two years ago, I would've had the music playing loudly in the car (my own personal life-soundtrack) and the adrenaline would've been going - the intrepid news reporter, called on as a witness for the people to the swirling drama of our lives. I would've felt really cool.
Yet there I was, irritated at myself because I'd been procrastinating all night and now would probably be stuck at That Place for a while, and pissed off at my fellow Bermudians for not getting their shit together. Who runs someone down in a car? And this is the second time in just a few weeks this has happened - a husband ran over his wife on his motorcycle repeatedly a while ago because he caught her cheating on him. And for some reason, despite the real horror of the situation, all I could think was: what are we, twelve?
Just as I was erupting into a tirade about the frequency of RTCs on Bermuda's roads these days and how unless someone had died I wasn't interested, she informed me this one was special because it appeared that the driver of the car had actually run the rider of the bike down.
Damn, I thought. I'll definitely get in trouble if I don't go look into this one. So, grumbling away to myself, I stomped out to my car and peeled off (I mean, checked both ways before using my indicators and pulling smoothly out into the road - I swear, Dad).
It was as I was musing over the intricacies of Bermuda road names (Marsh Folly Road turns into Palmetto Road for no apparent rhyme or reason) and just before I saw the scene of the collision that I realised I've changed in the past two years. Had I been forced to rush out of the office on a breaking news story like this two years ago, I would've had the music playing loudly in the car (my own personal life-soundtrack) and the adrenaline would've been going - the intrepid news reporter, called on as a witness for the people to the swirling drama of our lives. I would've felt really cool.
Yet there I was, irritated at myself because I'd been procrastinating all night and now would probably be stuck at That Place for a while, and pissed off at my fellow Bermudians for not getting their shit together. Who runs someone down in a car? And this is the second time in just a few weeks this has happened - a husband ran over his wife on his motorcycle repeatedly a while ago because he caught her cheating on him. And for some reason, despite the real horror of the situation, all I could think was: what are we, twelve?
posted by SarahT at 8:40 pm
1 Comments:
Lazy
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