Where Was I? Oh, Yeah...

All I could do was look at this lady. She was separated from me by a pane of glass that kept me from reaching out to her. At the very least, I wanted to wipe the drool from her lips or turn off the windshield wipers. I couldn't even get her to turn to me. I tried moving into her line of sight, pointing at the lock on the door. I could see her chest heaving up and down very slowly, almost calmly. Still, there was nothing I could do. I have never felt so completely helpless in my life.

Cars moved all around us and people stared blankly out their window. Horns were honking, people were tapping the glass, some guy is slamming a jack into her back window, I'm on hold with 911, its freezing outside, and for a few seconds I thought of something. This lady was going to die blissfully, sunk into the heated leather cushions of her cream-filled raspberry jaguar, probably listening to the soothing sounds of Celine Dion while life revolved around her at the corner of Peachtree and Piedmont. The irony slapped me in the face each time I jumped at the crack of the jack.

The sirens got a little louder until they were silenced at the intersection. Firemen moseyed out of their truck and discussed how they were going to pull her from the fortress of solitude. One of them walked back to the truck and pulled out the biggest pickax I'd ever seen. The kind of tool that ONLY a fireman would have. The back window shattered with one blow. He reached in and unlocked the door. That was it. They pulled her out and she was still breathing. She started regaining consciousness and I'm pretty sure she was okay after that.

The coppers wrote down my info and story because I was the first one at the scene. I haven't heard anything since.