Poop Shute

A moment of shame.

Tonight at Volleyball, there was a car accident on the freeway about 200 yards from where we were playing. My immediate response in my head was "go, run, see if they need any help." I stood there in shock for a second. Yeah, okay, fine a second or two to assimilate the data, THEN run, right? Nope.

I stood there like a schmuck for a second and then asked aloud. "Should we go see if htey need any help?" Somebody said yes, and I was off running just like that. But why not sooner, and why did I seem to need permission?

We got there and everybody was fine. No serious injuries, and everybody was conscious and cell phones were calling authorities, and it was fine. Some small fantasizing part of me was actually the tiniest bit disappointed that I couldn't help. As I ran over there, hero fantasies were playing in my head. In my head I'm holding someone's hand and putting pressure on a bleeding wound and telling them it's all going to be okay. In my head I'm puking because someone just died in my arms. In my head the worst case scenario is coming to life, and then I get there and find I'm completely useless and now winded and in pain from sprinting on a slightly twisted ankle. Immediately after feeling this disappointment all I had to do was remind myself that this outcome is much better for all involved, and i was fine again, but still.

I'm sure as you read this you're saying "dude, it's human nature, you reacted like most people would." I agree, but that doesn't make me any less ashamed. And don't worry, it's not that horrible, sullying shame that causes people to throw themselves from great heights. It's just.... well... I guess, it's just one of those things.