Writing the sentence I'm about to write is literally something I'd never thought I'd ever put to paper. I watched a guy attempt suicide inside a power transformer. Now let me explain, because chances are it's as bizarre as you can imagine.
At one time, there was a pretty wide trail that led from the west side of Suffolk to Oakland, and then it was just a quick hop from that point of Oakland (which is, by the way, now one of Portage's Fire Stations) to Kerry Frieben's house in the adjacent neighborhood. This path sort of became like our little Adventure Area and reminds me now of something out of a Stephen King novel. It just had some kind of eerie quality, and we always managed to find one odd thing or another. Now on this trail was the entrance to a pretty massive power transformer that provided electricity to our neighborhood. I'm assuming its still there, but I honestly don't know since I haven't looked closely in a while, as the Fire Station is now directly in front of it. This path was ours; no one else was ever on it, and the more I think about it, it might have been a private drive due to the fact that id had such a close proximity to the power station.
It was summer, and I only remember because it was incredibly hot, and the outfit on the guy we were abut to meet seemed a little out of the ordinary. We were cutting through the path coming back from Kerry's and heading to our neighborhood; it was Chad, Kerry, and I and we were planning on swimming. As we passed the transformer we noticed something pretty out of the ordinary in the form of a guy inside the guard fence dressed in a dark coat and pants messing around with some kind of tool. Now we weren't overly familiar with how workers did what they did inside one of these powerful structures, and we definitely had no knowledge of anyone having been in there before wen we walked by, but how the guy was dressed and what he said to us triggered more than a few alarms. As we stopped and just looked at what he was doing, he turned to us and said, "I'm just working in here, but don't tell anyone, okay?"
Don't tell anyone? Why would a worker care if we said anything to anybody? Well, we sort of nodded in false agreement, and quickly covered the distance between the transformer and the end of the path planning on absolutely telling someone. We got about a yard onto the actual street wen we heard a deafening BOOM echo over the treeline coming from where we had just been. We turned on our heels and sprinted back to where we saw the man, all of us just knowing that 'boom' could not be the result of something good. Little did we know that the power in or neighborhood had completely gone out, something we'd become aware of all too soon.
We arrived in a panic back to where the transformer was, and were met with the acrid smell of burning metal and singed wires mingled with the wretched odor of cooked flesh. Lying in a heap exactly where he stood was the man, covered in charred skin and bubbling blood. He looked like a shocked and cooked corpse from a bad horror movie. Smoke rolled off his clothes as dying flames fluttered out, and most of the hair on his head was replaced by roasted scalp. We stood there awestruck as the guy slowly rolled in agony and pleaded for us to get help. We didn't need to be asked twice, and we took off for my house. When we arrived, we bolted through the door and immediately told my mother. Though our power was out, and she'd heard the explosion, the phone was still operable and she quickly dialed the police. We wanted to go back to make sure the guy wasn't dead, but my mom insisted she go with us. We ran back to the transformer and found the man writhing in agony exactly as we'd left him.
As it turned out, the police were already on their way, as was a cadre of fire fighters, EMT's, and even a few power trucks; they'd all heard the explosion, and, presumably, the electric company got some kind of warning, as well. So we stood there and watched in rapt fascination as the man -clinging to life- was taken care of. We were interviewed by police as well as a reporter from a TV Van that arrived, it might have been WWMT, but I don't remember. Our regaling was in the Kalamazoo Gazette the next day, and as far as I know, my mom has the article somewhere. As for the man, I'm not sure how that ended or whether he lived or died.
Now I've seen thousands of horror movies and repulsive make-up jobs, but nothing can ever prepare you for someone burnt and bloody in the real world. It doesn't even compare. Also, I might be some kind of hero, but I'm not going to dwell on that.
At one time, there was a pretty wide trail that led from the west side of Suffolk to Oakland, and then it was just a quick hop from that point of Oakland (which is, by the way, now one of Portage's Fire Stations) to Kerry Frieben's house in the adjacent neighborhood. This path sort of became like our little Adventure Area and reminds me now of something out of a Stephen King novel. It just had some kind of eerie quality, and we always managed to find one odd thing or another. Now on this trail was the entrance to a pretty massive power transformer that provided electricity to our neighborhood. I'm assuming its still there, but I honestly don't know since I haven't looked closely in a while, as the Fire Station is now directly in front of it. This path was ours; no one else was ever on it, and the more I think about it, it might have been a private drive due to the fact that id had such a close proximity to the power station.
It was summer, and I only remember because it was incredibly hot, and the outfit on the guy we were abut to meet seemed a little out of the ordinary. We were cutting through the path coming back from Kerry's and heading to our neighborhood; it was Chad, Kerry, and I and we were planning on swimming. As we passed the transformer we noticed something pretty out of the ordinary in the form of a guy inside the guard fence dressed in a dark coat and pants messing around with some kind of tool. Now we weren't overly familiar with how workers did what they did inside one of these powerful structures, and we definitely had no knowledge of anyone having been in there before wen we walked by, but how the guy was dressed and what he said to us triggered more than a few alarms. As we stopped and just looked at what he was doing, he turned to us and said, "I'm just working in here, but don't tell anyone, okay?"
Don't tell anyone? Why would a worker care if we said anything to anybody? Well, we sort of nodded in false agreement, and quickly covered the distance between the transformer and the end of the path planning on absolutely telling someone. We got about a yard onto the actual street wen we heard a deafening BOOM echo over the treeline coming from where we had just been. We turned on our heels and sprinted back to where we saw the man, all of us just knowing that 'boom' could not be the result of something good. Little did we know that the power in or neighborhood had completely gone out, something we'd become aware of all too soon.
We arrived in a panic back to where the transformer was, and were met with the acrid smell of burning metal and singed wires mingled with the wretched odor of cooked flesh. Lying in a heap exactly where he stood was the man, covered in charred skin and bubbling blood. He looked like a shocked and cooked corpse from a bad horror movie. Smoke rolled off his clothes as dying flames fluttered out, and most of the hair on his head was replaced by roasted scalp. We stood there awestruck as the guy slowly rolled in agony and pleaded for us to get help. We didn't need to be asked twice, and we took off for my house. When we arrived, we bolted through the door and immediately told my mother. Though our power was out, and she'd heard the explosion, the phone was still operable and she quickly dialed the police. We wanted to go back to make sure the guy wasn't dead, but my mom insisted she go with us. We ran back to the transformer and found the man writhing in agony exactly as we'd left him.
As it turned out, the police were already on their way, as was a cadre of fire fighters, EMT's, and even a few power trucks; they'd all heard the explosion, and, presumably, the electric company got some kind of warning, as well. So we stood there and watched in rapt fascination as the man -clinging to life- was taken care of. We were interviewed by police as well as a reporter from a TV Van that arrived, it might have been WWMT, but I don't remember. Our regaling was in the Kalamazoo Gazette the next day, and as far as I know, my mom has the article somewhere. As for the man, I'm not sure how that ended or whether he lived or died.
Now I've seen thousands of horror movies and repulsive make-up jobs, but nothing can ever prepare you for someone burnt and bloody in the real world. It doesn't even compare. Also, I might be some kind of hero, but I'm not going to dwell on that.
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