The Tunnel is Closed

We’d already begun our descent into the tunnel when everything suddenly came to a stop. We were all stopped. Of course, I had to be the one to go through the tunnel. There was absolutely no movement in the traffic. Ahead there were brake lights and behind headlights, three lanes of them. The guy in the scruffy beard and super-sized pickup truck had his window rolled down, head stuck out, yelling at someone or maybe just the situation. The SUV in front was watching a kid’s movie. A cabbie in the rear had just gotten out and was standing beside his taxi, arms propped on the roof. Everyone else seemed frozen in their cars, not reacting.

My window was rolled down part way even though the fumes were bad. Someone further down inside the tunnel screamed, then someone else did and others joined in. There was no fire or smoke, no sign of an emergency, but people were getting out of their cars, and they were walking kind of funny, because, as I later realized, they were trudging through knee-deep water. I opened the door of my van and water rushed in as a small wave passed, covering the brake and the accelerator pedals. Instinctively, I reached for my pocket and quickly closed the door. Even though the van was on a fairly steep slant, it was probably still a foot deep at the back of the van where I had to exit. People were splashing past to get to higher ground, leaving their cars stuck and flooding in the tunnel.

I couldn’t see it from where I was but I imagined that the electronic billboard at the entrance to the tunnel now simply and cryptically read “The Tunnel is Closed.” It wouldn’t say why because of the panic that would cause, although it had to be increasingly obvious as more people escaped and related what they’d seen that an enormous disaster was developing under the river. Judging by the huge cracks forming in the walls of the tunnel and the ceiling at the edge of the tunnel, it was going to get a whole lot worse. I only saw 40 or 50 people from cars in front of me get out and get to safety—the cars around me were already empty—and I knew there had to be lots more still inside. After all, the tunnel is a mile long.

It couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, but it seemed a lot longer for help to arrive. Several divers went straightaway into the tunnel, disappearing into the flickering light. I imagined a Godzilla from one of those old Japanese science fiction movies wading through the river and stepping on the tunnel and crushing it. It would have immediately filled with water, and up here, some 50 feet higher, there would have been a small wave like the one I saw when I opened my van door.

It was slowly starting to sink in that I was a handicapped man caught square in the middle of a major urban disaster. How ironic. I’d finally caught a break and now this. I knew I could get out, as long as the electrical system in the van worked and the ramp lowered. But I didn’t know whether I could steady my wheelchair and navigate it through the water for 100 yards. I figured people would stop to help if they saw me, but it was chaos. Would they notice? I had to keep the wheelchair from toppling over into the water or I’d certainly be missed.

And if someone did stop to help, they don’t get why I can be so stubborn. It has nothing to do with them and their good intentions. It’s strictly about me. I’m not a lump and I won’t be treated that way. Besides, I really don’t like being touched. Period.

Once out of the tunnel I would have different worries. Most people have trouble touching us. Paramedics, on the other hand, don’t care. Nothing’s off limits for their prying hands. As I’m in good health, as long as they stick to checking my vitals, everything should be fine. Since I’m conscious and in no distress there’s no need for them to pat me down and go through my pockets (for meds and identification) and find that little cloth bag with the stones. I’m so glad I told the other guys to split up, because if any one of us had got stuck in the tunnel, we’d all be done for. I just wish I hadn’t offered to take the tunnel.

First published in Down in the Dirt, November/December 2015, vol. 133.