New Year's Day, 1998

I was driving home from my friend Greg’s place this morning, and I came across two horribly wrecked cars on Pico in Santa Monica. I was one of the first people on the scene, and I stopped my car and got out to see if I could help. One woman was in a bashed car, and couldn’t get out--two women were talking to her and calling 911 on a phone. There was a truck lying on its side, and I walked over and looked down through the passenger side window, and there was a man inside, immobile, in shock, bleeding from the head and shaking. I started talking to him, asking him his name, and just trying to keep him somewhat conscious. He couldn’t respond, but I kept talking. The paramedics, cops, and firemen came and cut him out with the jaws of life and the ambulance took them away. The woman will live, I believe, barring any unforeseen freak thing happening at the hospital, but the man I don’t know.