05 09 00

dark humor

What is it with me and dead people?

I was on my way back from the transmission shop with a van today when I got stuck in a bit of a traffic jam. A car had been flipped over on a narrow road, and there were people standing all around.

A guy was lying spread eagled about ten feet from the overturned car. He was missing a shoe. His eyes were closed.

I don't know that he was dead. He could have been just unconscious, or thanking god that he was alive. But... The way his head was tilted back, the way he was angled from the car... It looked like he had been dragged out of the car.

That, and no one was attending to him. An empty circle of gawkers surrounded him, but no one was at his side.

He was youngish, about my age. He had a goatee and sandy blonde hair. He was thin and tall. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt, unbuttoned. His chest was hairless. His socks were white. His shoe, lying several feet from him, was still tied.

A crowd had gathered across the street, a family standing on their lawn. One woman was holding a child, perhaps two years of age. A boy, who looked to be five, was staring at the man across the street. When a passing car blocked his view, he craned his neck to continue staring.

Finally, I was allowed to pass.

I always react to these incidents in the same way. After taming my shock, I protect myself with black humor. When something bad happens to me, I try to laugh it off. When I see something that haunts me, I turn it into a joke. I use humor to insulate myself from the rest of the world.

They aren't funny jokes. Sometimes, I keep the jokes to myself. I don't need to speak them out loud. I just need to focus on something other than the bad. I need to find the light in the darkest situation. I've been called irreverent, and I suppose that I am. But it serves a purpose for me. It keeps me sane.

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