THE BRIDGE

Recently I borrowed a DVD called simply “THE BRIDGE”

I, being an assumer, assumed the film was a documentary about the building of the Golden Gate Bridge.

The opening opened with gorgeous scenes of my favorite bridge, the fog and colors that wrap and glow.
Pelicans flew by in groups of 15 and 20 while surfers and sail boarders played in the wind and swells.

The super long lens panned the happy people who strolled the walk ways, reminding me of all the happy faces I have seen each and every time I’ve drivin into the City.

Children wowed, lovers held each other and kissed, joggers jogged, bikers biked,
till one ordinary man stepped onto the top of the rail, lowered himself to the narrow last beam, took a deep breath while looking down to the water, then let go.

The camera blurred as it tried to follow his 250 foot plunge.

I felt a little lost in this WTF? Moment, backed up the DVD and watched him again.

After a while I found that this was a film made by some cat who became obsessed with people who jump from this bridge.

Evidently he read a short article on jumpers and decided to move to San Fran, buy 100,000 dollars of camera and PC equipment and spend the next year scanning the bridge from sun up to sun down hoping, I guess, to film people in that act of suicide.

Interesting , I thought, Him and his friends taking turns, looking at who ever was walking on the bridge, and then trying to decide who to concentrate on,
Who looked most like, or gave off the vibe that they might take the plunge?

ART is hard to describe, But I know it when I see it.

So I played along, as the film showed different people, I would try and guess who would be inclined to stay-or-blow this mortal coil.
So, as a watched then finished this documentary, two things came to the top of my brain.

One, the film never mentioned what a beautiful and exciting way to die this was.
Given that we are all free, and free to make certain choices, I felt it would be an obvious truth to acknowledge, that of the many horrible ways there are to die, or suicide, that on the top of good ways to end-it-all would be flying for a short time at over 100 miles per hour into one of the great waterways of the world.

And the second thing I took from the film was, how good I would be at spotting the next jumper.

I firmly believe that of all the vocations I could choose, “Spotting the next to suicide” is custom built for me.

Even now, as I drive around town, I can spot on the sidewalks of my town the most likely to jump.
In shopping centers or grocery stores I can just look at someone and tell who is on the verge of saying “See ya, don’t wanna be ya, where’s that confounded bridge?”