As I came out of the 24th/Mission BART station, the noise of whipping air grew louder and loud. *thwap thwap*
Everyone around me looked up toward the sky at 6:30 pm where there was still light. Two helicopters above us flew steady unmoving, pointed in the direction of something.
As I walked toward Valencia, people kept looking upward. A curious glance of what was going on. When I got to Valencia, I saw that the street was blocked off with flares. A stern, yet bored policeman stood in the middle making sure no cars went by. There was a lot of traffic. A NBC11 van was parked. Empty. A saw the Spanish channel van coming by.
Then I looked to my left and saw cranes. Many people stopped and talked to each other. “What’s going on?” someone would ask. And only whispers.
I resisted the urge to follow everyone that wandered toward the large cranes and flashing lights. Because after all, if it was a monster, I don’t want to be suddenly caught in its jaws as in Cloverfield. I walked toward my place, only a few blocks as streams of rubberneckers wandered past me. And then above, I saw the helicopters turn away from the steady dance of the hour. It was done, whatever it was.
Inside my apartment, the sound of the helicopters was still loud. But just 10 minutes later, I could barely hear them as I only heard the taps of my keys finding out that it was only a disaster that happened two blocks from my apartment.
I reminded myself that I would backup data. And wondered aimlessly if my neighbors would be irresponsible.