Chicken Little in Seattle

One of the most bizarre things that has ever happened to me took place yesterday morning.

I was on my way from the Seattle Sheraton to the Convention Center a block away for the opening of the Web Design World conference. I stopped to read newspaper headlines in the newsboxes on the street, mostly to see what kind of new atrocity Bu$hco might have mounted while I was sleeping the night before.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, something fell out of the sky and bonked me on the top of the head. At first I wondered if it had been a stray bullet, but then I thought, “this is Seattle, not Philadelphia.” I put my hand on the spot and when I took it away saw I was bleeding profusely. People on the street corner edged away from me. A lady suggested I go back into the hotel lobby and seek assistance.

The pretty, young desk clerk was visbly upset when I casually said I’d been injured on the street, yet she remained composed. Hotel security officers appeared and started barking into walkie-talkies. One guy pulled on rubber gloves, brought antiseptics and ice and called 911.

Minutes passed before the ambulance pulled up in the crowded downtown street, and its wailing sirens caused quite a stir, as did the EMT guys strolling through the lobby. They took me upstairs to an empty room and checked me out. They said I had a 1/2 inch gash in my scalp, and suggested I take it easy for the rest of the day. We all speculated about what might have fallen from above, but nothing was found on the sidewalk.

After they left I went back up to my room to clean up and compose myself. It took almost an hour for the bleeding to stop. But the sense of unease and profound relief that I hadn’t been killed didn’t leave me for the rest of the day. I went to the conference, and felt queasy and light-headed. I knew I had escaped a close call, having survived an unknown object falling on my head from a tall building.

This morning I passed by the spot again with a sense of dread and relief, thinking about the thin line between life and death. All day today I was filled with a kind of existential anomie. I suspect I will feel that way for some time to come.

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