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The date was September 18th, 2012. I was working second shift at my job handling private aircraft at the airport in Gary, Indiana. Summer was quickly coming to an end but the night was looking to be gorgeous. September and October in the midwest brings some of the best weather all year as temperatures will touch the 70s and dip into the 40s at night. Not a cloud can be found for weeks at a time. This night was no exception. Due to its proximity to the heavily industrialized south side of Chicago, The Gary airport is quite frequented by cargo aircraft, often dropping off parts for a local Ford plant. An aircraft from Alliance Air Cargo came in that night with a few pallets of trim parts that were addressed to the Ford plant.
As dusk moved towards darkness, the crew of the plane stood in the lobby of the Gary Jet Center, the company that handles all the aircraft flying into Gary. Alliance Air cargo is an on demand freight carrier so the planes never run on schedule. The crew did not have another assignment so their job becomes to wait. In aviation we have a saying called "hurry up and wait". All too often especially in corporate and non-scheduled operations, crews are rushed to an airport and then asked to watch their phones or wait for passengers and cargo for hours at a time. The airport wasn't busy this night so I hung out behind the service counter talking to the crew. I myself being a pilot, I'm trying to network the best I can in order to get that next job. I'm doing some part time flying right now but my primary job is fueling, towing, loading, and sometimes dumping the toilets in aircraft. With this company I've worked my way up to shift lead but it still wasn't flying. These pilots are both near my age and they know one of my friends who works for their Texas based company. Eventually their company calls and notifies the pilots that they are to get a hotel room for the night. My company, the Jet Center, has deals with a few local hotels to give discounted rooms to flight crews. I set them up with the Courtyard Marriott a few miles from the airport in Hammond, Indiana.
None of the local hotels run a shuttle so another one of our jobs is to drive customers to their locations. Since I was the guy shooting the breeze with the pilots, I volunteered to drive them. Usually us line guys fight over driving customers because there is almost always a tip at the end. Always a tip unless its cargo pilots. I'm pretty sure I'm making more money driving then they do flying the aircraft. We have this shitty Dodge Neon that shakes like a go-kart. It runs fine though and it is in similar shape to the tired Shorts 360 the pilots flew in that night. The drive to the hotel goes quickly and I drop the pilots off under the dimly lit canopy. They give me a wave and I'm feeling satisfied that my first professional flying job is right around the corner. Unknowingly at the time, it is.
The Jet Center has a corporate flight department. They have several light and mid-sized corporate jets that are used in corporate and charter flying. During my interview almost two years before this night, I was told that even with my low flight time, I can work my way into being a full time pilot for the company. This was amazing because corporate flying is a job I felt I was decades from being able to do. The schedule is great, the pay is great, the trips are amazing, it was sounding almost too good to be true. About 10 months with the company, I was given my first flight with the company, a trip up to Muskegon, Michigan in a Beechjet 400A. For the next year I would sporadically be given one of these tastes at the good life. A trip here, a few here but never that full time gig. I was growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of movement as I was being promised this full time position was right around the corner. Nights like tonight really didn't help because although I bonded with another flight crew, I still was not one of them.
As I pulled out of the parking lot of the Courtyard I did what all of us do, I pulled out my phone. I wanted to text my friend that worked for Alliance to ask if he knew the guys. The hotel was built near the intersection of Kennedy Ave. and Interstate 80/94. I needed to get on 80/94 westbound to head back towards the airport. I held my phone in my hand as I entered the swooping 90 degree turn onto the highway. The merge onto 80/94 grew closer to my left when something caught my eye. There was a skinny line of fire that stretched from the near lane of the expressway to the side of my on-ramp. I flipped to the camera feature of my phone to take a blurry night lit photo to undoubtedly post on facebook as "some weird shit". I click the camera and put the phone down as a single headlight is now pointed at me getting closer at a good clip. At the end of the fire there's something on fire, I figured something fell from a truck and started on fire as no cars but mine and passing traffic can be seen. Suddenly I have to slam on the brakes and stop as that single headlight turns out to be a motorcycle headed the wrong way up the shoulder towards the burning debris. I have the windows down on the Neon and I hear the rider yell "OH MY GOD NO NO NO NO!" Startled by the scene, my eyes focus on the burning object.
It's a body
Instinctively I throw the car in park maybe 40' from from the injured person and run out to help. The biker is in hysterics shouting "MY SON NO NO NO" as the lower body of this person is in flames. Without thinking I slide my hands into my work jacket and pat the flames out. A women also runs up the scene and I ask her to call 911. I was trained in first aid in college and although I'm out of currency I felt I could do more help assessing the chaos than sitting on a phone that someone else can do. As she dials, I see blood pouring down the asphalt from the persons head and lower body. I can see the face of the person as blood flows from his mouth, nose, and ears. Its a young kid, he couldn't have been even 18. He's on his side and the body is shaking. I get down to eye level and try to see if there's any signs of consciousness. His eyes are slightly open but he is extremely pale. I check for a pulse on his neck but cannot find one. As I lift my hand off his neck it brushes off his temple and all the hair falls off as it is burnt to a crisp.
I have to stop the bleeding somehow but I don't want to move him as there is a serious brain trauma. There's more blood coming from his lower body so I reposition myself behind him in order to not sit in the forming puddle of his life. I run my hand along his left leg and nothing. Its dark and his right leg is tucked underneath the left. I just feel to where the cut is and get to a wet object I assume is his knee. It feels strange but this is where the blood is coming from. I touch it again because something is off. I look down and I realize I'm not touching his knee but actually the end of his femur. His right leg has been completely torn away at the knee and is missing. I pull off my jacket and wrap a tourniquet around his remaining leg in an effort to stop the blood loss. A orange flash appears in my peripheral vision. A fireball about a half mile down the road blasts 30 feet into the sky. I look over, so does the other woman, and the other biker on his phone. I later came to find out that that was the kids motorcycle being dragged underneath the semi that initially hit him. According to the news, the truck driver didn't know he hit something until the damaged bike exploded under his trailer. Traffic begins to slow and swerve around the accident sight. A few more people stop to offer assistance and maybe two minutes go by. Two women in their 40's are approach me and the kid and we make eye contact. I think we both know the kid is dead but we don't want to admit it. I can hear the faint sirens of the approaching firetrucks. Whats louder though is the biker calling his wife telling her to get the kids in the car and meet him at the hospital. He is having a hard time keeping it together. I'm back at eye level with the kid holding his burnt hand. Just staring into his lifeless eyes hoping for something. He has bracelets on, one is an Orange Harley Davidson, the other a Livestrong. They're melted to his skin. The two women place their hands on his back and begin to pray not for a miracle but for his comfort.
I'm out of ideas on what to do, I'm not a field medic or a trauma surgeon by any means. I stand up and look at the quickly growing traffic jam. I hold my arms up to the cars just hoping someone can do something more. An emergency management truck speeds past us towards the semi on fire down there road. I try to sprint after his to no avail. Back to the kid, there's not a group of people standing around all with the same hopeless look on their face. I walk back over and remember that in an amputee situation, the find the severed appendage and secure it for hope of reattachment. The line, I assume was fuel, of fire I took the picture of was still burning. I followed the path and quickly located his leg. It was shredded from the ankle up to the knee and seemingly turned inside out. The fat and muscle was burning. The smell of the cooked flesh is one I will never forget. I stood over the leg and like I was making a wish on my birthday, I tried to blow it out.
The firetrucks made it to the scene first and I remember stopping a fire fighter to tell him I found the leg. He just sort of looked at me with that "we don't need your help" sort of look. I walked back to the Neon and watched the paramedics load the kid onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. The kids dad jumped on his motorcycle and sped the wrong way up the on-ramp to presumably go to the hospital. My adrenaline began to wear off and now its just me standing up against the side of the Neon surround by flashing lights. I look up to see a guy walking around with a clear bag. He goes up to the leg and picks it up. I remember thinking to myself, what kid of shit job that is being the guy who picks up body parts from the highway. Bag guy eventually comes up to me and I find out he's an investigator with the Indiana State Police. I tell him what I saw and we make small talk. I ask him if the kid has a chance. He gives me that Ken Schrader look. a few more minutes go by and he comes up back to me telling me he'll stop traffic to let me drive away from the scene.
I arrive back at the Jet Center about 30 minutes later than when I was suppose to. My coworkers ask me what happened. I smell like fire and am covered in blood. I show them my crimson colored hands and head to the bathroom to wash myself off of the kid from the highway. I tell my coworkers what had happened and I think they didn't know the severity of what I just experienced. They kinda just said "uh alright" and went about their business. I was in a state of shock at this point and couldn't really focus on anything. They both wanted to leave early and were bitching about how quiet is was around. The shift ended at 10pm. The place is open 24hrs but we have no overnight guys. Basically if something is planned to go on after 10, One or two 2nd shift guy have to stay. The University of Chicago Hospital keeps their helicopter at the airport and gets fueled all the time. Tonight it was to come in around 11. The other workers bitched about staying late so I told them to just fucking go home then and I'll take care of it. They gladly left.
Waiting for the helicopter, I had most of the lights turned off in the building. I sat processing the night. How in between dropping pilots off at a hotel and refueling a helicopter. I had a kid die in front of me and was covered in his blood. I decided right then and there I need to do more with my life. I'm capable of doing great things and I'm wasting my time being toilet scrubber. I was shaken up pretty good from the incident and over the course of the next few week developed sleeping problems and bouts of anger especially with my incompetent workers. I had a few meetings with a counselor just to figure out what to do next. I did. I found a job in St. Louis flying Cessna Caravans and quit my frustrating job. Without a place to live or knowing many people, I packed my bags and started a new life in the Lou.
That is better than NASCAR.
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