Most of the time, bridgetending is a pretty Zen job. Working alone suits me. And on slow, quiet shifts (for example, late Christmas night, when everyone in their right mind is at home all snug in their beds, sleeping off a day of dietary and capitalistic overindulgence, when it feels like I’m the only one awake in the entire city, and even the persistent hum of traffic has disappeared), I look up at the stars and count my blessings. It’s why I’ve been doing this for 24 years.
Mostly, people don’t even realize that bridgetenders exist. They think drawbridges are automated, or that bridgetenders sleep through their shifts, occasionally open one eye, push one button, and then fall asleep again. On the slow shifts, even I sometimes marvel that I get paid for this. That certainly seems to be the prevailing opinion of the average drawbridge administrator, given the constant pressure they apply to reduce our pay and benefits. (Union strong!)
But we are here for a reason. We don’t just operate these bridges. We maintain them. We might spend as much as a quarter of our shift getting greasy amongst the bridge components. There are a lot of moving parts to these bridges, and if they aren’t maintained properly, they break down. If they break down, they can cost taxpayers millions to repair. If the breakdown is catastrophic, a bridge replacement can cost billions, and take several years, leaving commuters without a direct route, causing citywide gridlock, and depriving people like me of a job. Being familiar with the inner workings of our bridges also allows us to spot problems before (or unfortunately after) they happen and call in the big guns, such as our mechanic and electrician crews.
One of our most important and never-ending tasks, though, is keeping the traveling public safe. People don’t seem to realize how dangerous a million pounds of moving concrete and steel can be, or worse yet, they’re unfamiliar with drawbridges and have no idea what to do when they encounter one as it’s about to spring to life. But the fact is that people get hurt every day on drawbridges, and sometimes, tragically, they have lost their lives (not here in Seattle, though. Not yet).
The most dangerous trend in unsafe behavior is the use of noise cancelling apparatuses. Even though we use loud gongs and sometimes even horns to signal the beginning of a bridge opening, people using these earphones will often continue to wander across the bridge in an almost trance-like state, despite the fact that traffic is backing up for miles waiting for them, and a 3000 gross ton gravel barge may be bearing down on the bridge with absolutely no way to make a u-turn.
When their ears are otherwise occupied, they also seem to not really be aware of their surroundings, because there are also multiple flashing lights at this point, as well as tons of other pedestrians trying to get their attention, because until they move their clueless behinds, they’re holding everyone else up, too.
Then you have the arrogant ones who willfully go under the gates because they think the world revolves around them. They’re in a hurry, so they are perfectly fine with making everyone else have to wait longer for the bridge opening process to end so traffic can flow once again. These people, in particular, make me wish that Super Soakers were part of our standard equipment. (But only in passing. I’m a professional.)
I suppose I should appreciate the arrogant pedestrians’ confidence in me. They are sure I see them and won’t open the bridge while they’re on the movable span. They have faith that my attention isn’t elsewhere, and that all our cameras are functional, and that they’re not walking through a blind spot, so there’s no chance that the bridge will start to rise and their foolhardiness will result in their death. I’m proud to say I’ve never killed anyone on my watch, and I do take my job extremely seriously, but in life there are no guarantees, so it would be a much better idea to not take such risks. I certainly wouldn’t voluntarily put my life in some stranger’s hands like that.
Most of the traveling public is completely unaware of our role in the situations mentioned above. They’re not even fully cognizant of the danger they are putting themselves in. I get it. That’s why bridges should never be automated. Without us watching over them, accidents would happen every day.
But then something even more dramatic happens to remind everyone, including me, why we matter.
For example, the other day I arrived at work in the aftermath of a rather noteworthy event. Check out this video below, which was taken from our bridge camera, and also check out the latest news report (at least at the time of this writing) of the incident for a different camera perspective.
Hollywood has fooled the public into thinking that cars can jump drawbridges, sustain no damage whatsoever, and then drive off into the sunset. Not so. This guy, an alleged car thief, learned that the hard way. He was being chased by the police, came upon my drawbridge just as one of our trainees (poor guy) was lowering the bridge after an opening, and he (the scofflaw, not the trainee) decided he was in no mood to wait. So he gunned it. He broke off the tip of the oncoming gate, jumped the span, and (off camera) completely took out the offgoing gate. The car was later found abandoned, with a broken windshield and a badly damaged undercarriage. As of this writing, the guy, who is probably injured, has yet to be apprehended. But given the fact that his prints are probably all over that car, I’m not liking his chances.
When the public sees stuff like this, they think, “Wow! Cool!” Meanwhile, we bridgetenders are busy writing reports, capturing footage, making sure the flying gate debris didn’t harm anyone standing nearby, removing any large debris from the roadway, communicating with police dispatch, notifying Traffic Operations and the Coast Guard that vehicular and boat traffic will be at a standstill until things are repaired, getting mechanics and electricians to the scene to start repairs to minimize such delays, and on and on. Frankly, I was grateful to have only arrived for the aftermath. All I had to do was assist the mechanics and electricians by safely stopping traffc and raising and lowering the gates as needed as they replaced them like a NASCAR pit crew, so as not to hold up traffic for too long. (It’s truly a sight to see.)
So yeah, bridgetending is very Zen, mostly. Until it isn’t. I’m kind of surprised our trainee showed up the next day. Yet he did. And I think he’ll work out just fine. But talk about a trial by fire.
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