Another Tragedy Closely Avoided

Patrick's Note: Well here I am. Again. No matter how much I try to staunch the need to write, I keep coming back. As I have said many a time, this is my self-therapy. This job is not simply just driving a bus, as that insipid local radio personality once lauded as "easy". It's a ride through the best and worst of times, a carriage of deep sadness with a spark of happiness we are so lucky to occasionally witness. Sure, it's fun for me to drive The Beast, to feel the power, its' mighty presence on the street. Yet it's a monstrous responsibility, knowing the damage potential it rolls with. This constant knowledge bears down, commits me to be hyper-vigilant 10+ hours a day from the time I awaken to the moment consciousness is lost to dreams. Bless you, dear passengers. It's for you, five days a week... not for my employer. And for you, anyone who exists anywhere near this enormous responsibility.

Two times this month I've seen the carnage of human vs. transit vehicle. It's incredibly horrifying. More than you see on TV, in shows or on the news. Neither of my witnessed tragedies have even been mentioned by the snooze media. It's unfathomable. Usually, any contact between our vehicles and the public is ultra-scrutinized by those whose job it is to bring you the "Dirty Laundry"

I have tried everything I know to force the news media's hand where it comes to transit management's own tarnished self-proclaimed "image". From transit worker assaults (on the RISE every year) to the many issues we face on the front lines, I have been met with total silence. It's so loud in my ears, their collective dissonance (defined as "psychological conflict resulting from incongruous beliefs and attitudes held simultaneously").

"I make my living off the evening news. Just gimme somethin', somethin' I can use. People love it when you lose, give us Dirty Laundry."                                          -- Don Henley, The Eagles

Let's pick this definition apart, for discussion's sake. Incongruous means lacking harmony. Therefore, most media reports regarding transit tragedy are one-sided, largely because our own transit agencies are so afraid of negative public opinion that they actually perpetuate it through its own negligence to insulate US from it. It has been self-taught to insulate itself from public scrutiny so much, it is seemingly eager to throw US under the bus whenever something tragic happens. To support this belief, I ask you how often is the headline "Pedestrian looking at cell phone walks in front of train/bus"? What you'll likely see is "Pedestrian struck by bus/train". The transit agency's response, lacking ANY support for its' workers, is commonly "this incident, while tragic, is currently under investigation." Not a word of support for the operator, even if that man or woman has a flawless safety record or has never been "involved" in any such incident in their many years of service.

After the "investigation" has likely found us free of any blame, you won't find such a proclamation forthcoming from them, or the media. Therefore, initial "news" leaves us hanging in the public opinion that if ANY incident occurs where someone makes contact with one of our vehicles, WE are to blame. So much for "innocent until proven guilty". In our case, it's usually "guilty unless proven innocent", and that is up to speculation... forever.

Management's refusal to have our backs when tragedy strikes only perpetuates the myths that we are "unsafe" or "not adequately trained", which are common quotes from the afflicted following a tragedy. Given their empty grief following a transit death, one can feel their need to blame anybody except their loved one. Without official acceptance or proclamation of wrongdoing except for omitting the innocence of the Transit Operator, the public is left to believe WE are at fault. Therefore, the myths become "attitudes" toward those who daily traverse thousands of SAFE miles regardless of the foolishness we automatically avoid.

Over a decade ago, one of our sisters suffered an incident in which two pedestrians died underneath her bus. It was a momentary lack of sight, when she failed to see around a fundamental flaw of the "new" bus design which placed a physical barrier to our peripheral vision. This barrier was the major cause of the disaster, yet our sister was fired, humiliated, sued and made to suffer far beyond her own feelings of guilt and shame. She suffers still, forever tainted by this horrific accident EVERY trainee is taught to avoid.

Our union has long cried foul over this vision barrier as a safety hazard, yet our sister paid the debt that was never corrected. Not only did those poor folks lose their lives in a horrendous tragedy, but the Operator's name is forever-connected with this devastating reminder of transit management's failure to safeguard the public by correcting the "A-Frame Anomaly", over a decade later.

So much for the "Safety First" signs which once adorned our garage bullpens. They've been replaced with snarky reminders about "pulling out on time" while praising us for "On Time Performance" rather than placing an appropriate emphasis on how many lives we save every shift.

Not much has changed since this disaster happened, except management's own refusal to insist upon Safety First. It has a decade-long history of ordering new buses with the same safety flaw, if only to meet the former GM McFarlane's vision of buses looking eerily similar to light rail vehicles. Aesthetics are evidently more important than the public's safety, or the integrity of an Operator who must increase our risk of Repetitive Motion injuries from having to "rock and roll" more than AC/DC fans on amphetamines and meth. 

* * * * *

Fast forward to three days ago. I'm sliding out of my stop at 6/Salmon, approaching Pioneer Courthouse Square. As I guide my bus 14mph down the transitway, I see two buses stopped ahead of me at Morrison. No biggie, this happens daily as several buses professionally share the road with other buses, private motorists and MAX trains. I glide through the intersection at Yamhill, a train approaching behind. As I roll to a stop behind C-TRAN Line 105, I see the Operator deploy his four-way flashers. There's a bus ahead of him, one of ours I find out a few moments later.

As I'm stopped, I flip on my own four-ways to warn the bus behind me that we're stopped for some reason. I'm not sure what it is, but from where I sit, a tour bus is visible ahead, stopped half-turn from Morrison onto our 6th. My first thought is that an inexperienced operator has mis-judged the curb and is stuck there, because there's a safety-vested man up ahead on my left in the intersection. When nothing happens, I lock it up and step out to see what's up. Glancing out my open door, all I can see is the rear portion of the stuck tour bus. Telling my passengers to stay put while I investigate the situation, I step our and see my C-TRAN brother to my left on the Pioneer Courthouse Square sidewalk speaking with a security guard. Walking over to him, he catches my glance and shakes his head.

"Tour bus vs. pedestrian," he says, shaking his head.

I glance up at the scene, devoid of any emergency vehicles. It had just happened moments prior. A human's lower extremities stuck out from underneath the bus just ahead of the duals. My breath caught, extreme anxiety overcame me as my brother explained the situation.

"Driver hit the guy, he went under the bus, under the fucking duals. Driver had to back up to get the weight off him." 

He must be dead. My only thought as he spoke. I couldn't take my eyes off the scene until I forced myself to. At that point, the scene was chaotic. I saw someone kneeling at the edge of the tour bus, trying to speak to the injured person, but at that point I could not watch any longer. It felt like my legs would fall from underneath me, so I concentrated on my fellow operator. Not sure I heard all he said, even though he was right there. With me. Feeling the same fear I did.

What if that had been me?

We both acknowledged we had been in similarly-dangerous spots, but luckily had avoided them. Both of us felt for the operator, but wondered why they had missed the likely-jaywalking pedestrian coming right at them. In retrospect, I believe it's directly-attributable to the damned vision barrier every bus manufacturer has ignored for a decade now.

Ever since then, I have asked myself that question countless times. Whenever I make a turn, I do as my trainers bade me. Scan both ways 180-degrees plus as I slow down. Making the turn between 5-10mph, I'm constantly scanning, watching for anything I may have missed on the initial scan, foot on the brake as caution dictates. I have avoided countless disasters practicing this constant lesson from several trainers in my earliest days as a transit operator. Each time this maneuver saves a life, I profusely thank my trainers (and line-trainers too). Especially that they stressed making a sharp turn slowly and deliberately. I thank my Dad, who taught me early and often to expect the unexpected at all times and to be ready when the worst thing happens.

When I heard the touring coach operator had to reverse over the body he'd struck to relieve the pressure of his duals upon the body, I can only imagine the horror. None of us can, nor could ever, feel that anguish. Unless it happens to US, and we ALL pray it is never an issue. 

Still, four days later, I have not seen any news reports of this tragic happening. As I spoke with my C-TRAN brother adjacent to Pioneer Courthouse Square with the so-far-unlit-Christmas tree behind us, he told me there was a news camera behind us. We had been jiving together as bus operators will, and there was some laughter involved. It was likely nerve-busting banter, sharing experiences to remove our focus from the paramedic activity ahead of us. I became immediately aware that our actions were on film. Instantly changing my face/posture, the scene sobered us.

Re-focusing, I walked to the front bus, one of ours. The operator was sitting with his head in his hands, but he saw me at the door and opened it. Then he stepped to the doorway.

"You doing okay?" I asked. He shook his head, for want of words. 

"You saw it happen, didn't you?"

He nodded. Obviously in shock, I was instantly concerned for him, feeling guilty for shooting the shit with the bus operator behind him rather than seeking my brother first. My TriMet brother should have been my first contact. My immediate brother, not the concerned "involved witness", but the one who shares my uniform. To him, I offer my intense apology.

Brother Operator was pale, shaken. He told me what he saw.

"Pedestrian jaywalked right into the coach, who must not have seen him," he said, deeply sighing. I could see the scene playing through his closed eyes. "He went under the bus, then under the... duals. Driver stopped, then had to back up so the duals weren't..." He couldn't go further.

My eyes clouded. I turned my head so he couldn't see. I was grateful it wasn't me in his place. I doubt my soul could have borne that scene. 

At that point, I was grateful that Supe Wayne came up to talk to my brother.

"Between you and me," the Operator said to Wayne, but I backed away so I couldn't hear anything more. It was obviously meant to be private, and my thoughts were for Brother Operator rather than my morbid curiosity. It was vital they had privacy, so I walked back to my bus to inform my sole remaining passenger that we would be there a few.

Meanwhile, I took stock of my personal well-being. I was relatively okay. Thankful I wasn't the Operator I had just left explaining what he saw, sad beyond belief for the inattentive jaywalker. This day prior to Thanksgiving, I felt for the injured man and prayed for his life's safekeeping.

* * * * *

After the scene cleared and I was re-routed around the investigative area, I took immediate stock of my well-being. Surprisingly, I found myself amazingly-calm. Not sure why, because it seemed I had witnessed a fatality. As I replayed the scene, what I found most peaceful was that Supe Wayne assured me he would be driving the lead bus through the re-route. He had personally taken charge of my brother/witness, and would safely deliver him to the garage where I hope he was received warmly and with the most intense support possible that time of night. I doubt there was any management available as they were likely snug in their warm beds. Knowing our immediate support system of Supes and Station Agents, I'm sure they did their best to soothe and insulate him from what had happened. Hopefully, he was given at least one day off to cope. 

As it was, I cried many a tear for him, as well as for the family who held the injured man's hands in the Emergency Room of whatever hospital received him. I also prayed that the dedicated professionals who worked to save his life were successful. Additionally, I felt and prayed for the Operator of the tour bus involved. Such an incident involves not only psychological, but professional and legal implications.

The man under that bus took a chance and paid the price. The Operator of the bus missed a vital scan and paid a less-physically-painful but morbidly-psychological price he'll likely never outlive. 

PLEASE, let this be a lesson to ALL involved. Jaywalking comes with an-often expensive price: your life. WE can only watch so much. Do not believe your safety is the responsibility of somebody else. Even a bus operator can miss you, even though we vigilantly watch every square inch of vulnerability within our scope of vision. The rest of it falls on YOU.

* * * * *

I almost left this post as is. Then it struck me that I left out a vital part. Where does it leave me?

After 10 years, I've seen my share of near-misses and just-after witnesses. Each sears into my reality as a transit operator. What could I do in a similar situation to avoid tragedy. Am I vigilant enough to avoid it? How can I best safeguard the public from its' own lack of awareness and obvious ignorance to avoid the horrid media scrutiny which would focus on ONE fatal incident rather than SEVERAL lifesaving intervals where I persevered? How many near-misses can I safely maneuver through without tragic consequences?

These questions increase my anxiety. Nobody but another Operator can understand these feelings. It's a pressure most people don't have to experience, but I'm paid to. Never enough, but the paycheck is just enough to keep me out of a tent. One missed scan, however, is enough to result in a lost life and mine in the gutter. Is any wage enough to compensate?

Yeah, I'm stressed out. Every moment of each day. And you wonder why? Not if you wear my shoes. Given the increasing lack of personal safety, our daily lives are fraught with peril, along with those who think their personal safety is someone else's responsibility. It's a two-way street, people. Get your heads out of your phones and look UP. Your own lives depend upon it.

Next time your bus operator arrives late, perhaps ask if they're okay. Chances are, we're not. I still don't know how the pedestrian fared in all of this gruesomeness. Thanks to the useless local news media, we may never know.