One October Day
Witnessing people die in tragic ways can impact the life of any person.
Being sixteen years old and seeing people burn alive, while being trapped on a bus, brings a whole new meaning to the word tragic.
It was late October and my grandfather picked me up from school.
We were driving home when all of a sudden I saw a bus coming toward us on the opposite side of the road, but smoke was coming from under the hood of the bus.
My grandfather swerved our car onto the curb and quickly jumped out to render aid.
He told me to stay in the car, but being as curious as I was, I decided to get out or the car.
Leaving the car was probably the worst decision of my life because what comes next is the closest thing to hell that a person can experience while still being alive.
Starring at a flame can be quite relaxing at times.
I used to be mesmerized by the flickering light of the fire.
Now every time I see a flame I think back to that one October day.
I remember being almost hypnotized while standing in the middle of the road.
I was intrigued by the flames.
I saw the grey smoke rise up slowly and turn the sky that had once been celestial into black mantle that covered us.
Ashes poured down like rain from the clouds, covering the entire scene.
People ran aimlessly in every direction, not knowing whether to run towards the bus to help or away from it to avoid being burned and because they were frightened.
Ambulances, firefighters, and policemen started pouring in from every direction as confused and scared as the civilians were.
Many people were looking for family members and friends; others cried because they had lost them.
There were those so badly burned that skin was non-existent.
What impacted me the most, standing only about ten feet away from the bus, was the man in the window.
One detail I remember clearly was looking down at the street and seeing that double yellow lines dividing the road; I stood exactly before the lines and did not dare to cross them.
Observing the commotion, a man in flames with his skin so badly burned he was black as charcoal pressed his charred body up against one of the windows of the bus.
Everyone was on the other side of the bus trying to escape the flames by jumping out from the side that led to the sidewalk, trying to avoid being hit by a car I would assume.
That man and I were the only ones on the side where the street was.
He was alone on that side of the bus and I was alone standing in the middle of the street, but in some strange way we connected and we were alone together.
The predominant sound I recall from that day is the crackling of the flames.
The fire roared in such a way that it instilled into me a mental picture of condemned souls being tossed into the infernal fire by Lucifer himself.
The piercing screams of distraught people in chaos altered me.
The sound of people crying almost drove me to insanity.
Some cried in excruciating pain, while others cried out in desperation.
The persistent prayers of the multitude were a moving picture.
They were begging and praying to God that they would survive and that their loved ones were out of harm's way.
The ambulance sirens seemed like they surrounded me and slowly engulfed me.
Slowly all of those sounds started to fade away into the background when I found myself facing the man in the window.
All I could focus on was him.
His screams were silent, but I can only imagine the agony they transmitted.
I could hear him banging on the glass with what was left of his fists, trying to break the window.
Then, he just disappeared into the fire behind him.
Again the background sounds started to emerge.
Suddenly a policeman picked me up and carried me away to safety.
He spoke, but his words were unclear to me.
He repeated himself many times until suddenly my mind came into focus with what he was saying to me He asked if I was alright and who I was with.
I did not even take the time to answer him.
I slowly walked towards my grandfather who took my hand, guided me to the car, and drove us home.
No words were said, just silence.
The most nauseating part of the whole event was the odor.
I had never smelled something so execrable in my life.
The smell of burning flesh was in the air.
This olfaction is so foul and so unique that it cannot be described.
It is an odor you can only witness to know, and cannot be compared to any other smell.
Repugnant is the word I would use to describe the odor of burning flesh.
It will make you vomit almost instantly and will stay in your nostrils for days after.
The smoke from the fire was dense and asphyxiating.
The smell of gasoline was strong and pungent in the ambient.
The olfactory part of this event was almost as impacting as the visual.
I could feel my face turn red as the heat of the fire flushed my face.
I could not open my eyes due to the stinging sensation caused by the heat.
My eyelashes incinerated with the fervor and my lips cracked and bled.
The pulverized ashes fell on everyone.
I could feel them as they settled on my hair and face.
Some ashes even landed in my eyes causing me grim pain.
After the policeman made me focalize, I became aware of the glass slivers embedded in my face and inside my shoes.
I could feel the warm liquid blood dripping down my cheeks.
I felt the pain, but my mind decided to block it out for the time being.
The sensations were to intense to manage at that moment.
Everything around me tasted bitter, especially the gasoline in the breeze.
The ashes turned to drivel in my mouth.
The remains tasted chalky and made my mouth dry.
I had never felt so parched in my life.
The heat of the fire was so vehement, that I felt my tongue burning.
It was distasteful and crude.
Taste can be one of the most appealing senses of the human body, but there are some cases where it becomes atrocious.
This experience was life-changing.
Some would say it was catastrophic, a calamity, but I find it somewhat refreshing.
I witnessed a horrible event and I learned from it.
Yes it traumatized me for a long time, and it still has its effects on me, but I am a better person because of it.
In a way, this event is what motivated me to become a paramedic.
I want to be able to aid others successfully, using advanced pre-hospital skills.
I want my conscious to be clear by helping others, since I couldn't do anything for the man in the window, even though I was all the hope he had in living to see one more day.
I accept life for what it is now, fragile and tenuous.
Just as we are here one minute, we can be gone the next.
We need to value every second of our lives and not waste it doing meaningless tasks.
We must go out and accomplish our goals and dreams without hesitation.
Being sixteen years old and seeing people burn alive, while being trapped on a bus, brings a whole new meaning to the word tragic.
It was late October and my grandfather picked me up from school.
We were driving home when all of a sudden I saw a bus coming toward us on the opposite side of the road, but smoke was coming from under the hood of the bus.
My grandfather swerved our car onto the curb and quickly jumped out to render aid.
He told me to stay in the car, but being as curious as I was, I decided to get out or the car.
Leaving the car was probably the worst decision of my life because what comes next is the closest thing to hell that a person can experience while still being alive.
Starring at a flame can be quite relaxing at times.
I used to be mesmerized by the flickering light of the fire.
Now every time I see a flame I think back to that one October day.
I remember being almost hypnotized while standing in the middle of the road.
I was intrigued by the flames.
I saw the grey smoke rise up slowly and turn the sky that had once been celestial into black mantle that covered us.
Ashes poured down like rain from the clouds, covering the entire scene.
People ran aimlessly in every direction, not knowing whether to run towards the bus to help or away from it to avoid being burned and because they were frightened.
Ambulances, firefighters, and policemen started pouring in from every direction as confused and scared as the civilians were.
Many people were looking for family members and friends; others cried because they had lost them.
There were those so badly burned that skin was non-existent.
What impacted me the most, standing only about ten feet away from the bus, was the man in the window.
One detail I remember clearly was looking down at the street and seeing that double yellow lines dividing the road; I stood exactly before the lines and did not dare to cross them.
Observing the commotion, a man in flames with his skin so badly burned he was black as charcoal pressed his charred body up against one of the windows of the bus.
Everyone was on the other side of the bus trying to escape the flames by jumping out from the side that led to the sidewalk, trying to avoid being hit by a car I would assume.
That man and I were the only ones on the side where the street was.
He was alone on that side of the bus and I was alone standing in the middle of the street, but in some strange way we connected and we were alone together.
The predominant sound I recall from that day is the crackling of the flames.
The fire roared in such a way that it instilled into me a mental picture of condemned souls being tossed into the infernal fire by Lucifer himself.
The piercing screams of distraught people in chaos altered me.
The sound of people crying almost drove me to insanity.
Some cried in excruciating pain, while others cried out in desperation.
The persistent prayers of the multitude were a moving picture.
They were begging and praying to God that they would survive and that their loved ones were out of harm's way.
The ambulance sirens seemed like they surrounded me and slowly engulfed me.
Slowly all of those sounds started to fade away into the background when I found myself facing the man in the window.
All I could focus on was him.
His screams were silent, but I can only imagine the agony they transmitted.
I could hear him banging on the glass with what was left of his fists, trying to break the window.
Then, he just disappeared into the fire behind him.
Again the background sounds started to emerge.
Suddenly a policeman picked me up and carried me away to safety.
He spoke, but his words were unclear to me.
He repeated himself many times until suddenly my mind came into focus with what he was saying to me He asked if I was alright and who I was with.
I did not even take the time to answer him.
I slowly walked towards my grandfather who took my hand, guided me to the car, and drove us home.
No words were said, just silence.
The most nauseating part of the whole event was the odor.
I had never smelled something so execrable in my life.
The smell of burning flesh was in the air.
This olfaction is so foul and so unique that it cannot be described.
It is an odor you can only witness to know, and cannot be compared to any other smell.
Repugnant is the word I would use to describe the odor of burning flesh.
It will make you vomit almost instantly and will stay in your nostrils for days after.
The smoke from the fire was dense and asphyxiating.
The smell of gasoline was strong and pungent in the ambient.
The olfactory part of this event was almost as impacting as the visual.
I could feel my face turn red as the heat of the fire flushed my face.
I could not open my eyes due to the stinging sensation caused by the heat.
My eyelashes incinerated with the fervor and my lips cracked and bled.
The pulverized ashes fell on everyone.
I could feel them as they settled on my hair and face.
Some ashes even landed in my eyes causing me grim pain.
After the policeman made me focalize, I became aware of the glass slivers embedded in my face and inside my shoes.
I could feel the warm liquid blood dripping down my cheeks.
I felt the pain, but my mind decided to block it out for the time being.
The sensations were to intense to manage at that moment.
Everything around me tasted bitter, especially the gasoline in the breeze.
The ashes turned to drivel in my mouth.
The remains tasted chalky and made my mouth dry.
I had never felt so parched in my life.
The heat of the fire was so vehement, that I felt my tongue burning.
It was distasteful and crude.
Taste can be one of the most appealing senses of the human body, but there are some cases where it becomes atrocious.
This experience was life-changing.
Some would say it was catastrophic, a calamity, but I find it somewhat refreshing.
I witnessed a horrible event and I learned from it.
Yes it traumatized me for a long time, and it still has its effects on me, but I am a better person because of it.
In a way, this event is what motivated me to become a paramedic.
I want to be able to aid others successfully, using advanced pre-hospital skills.
I want my conscious to be clear by helping others, since I couldn't do anything for the man in the window, even though I was all the hope he had in living to see one more day.
I accept life for what it is now, fragile and tenuous.
Just as we are here one minute, we can be gone the next.
We need to value every second of our lives and not waste it doing meaningless tasks.
We must go out and accomplish our goals and dreams without hesitation.
