Thursday, March 11, 2010



Ever since I can remember, I had an obsession with emergency services.

Where it stems from, I don't know, but flashing lights would always seize my attention and not let go until the absolute last ray of light from the flashing beacons had been devoured by my eyes.

I can pick a siren from miles away. I would always try and steal a glance at any passing emergency vehicle. On holiday in NYC as an eight year old, most of the pictures taken by me were police cars, fire trucks and ambulances.

Still no change. Flashing lights mesmerize me. If I park my ambulance up on the road and need the emergency lights on for warning purposes, I always catch myself gazing up to the lightbar, hypnotized by its flashing pattern. Checking the van before a shift, I love watching the beacons dancing on the walls.

- ~ -

Over time (and as I got older), interest developed from the exterior of the vehicle to the interior of the vehicle; who sits inside and what do they do! Natural progression (with a few detours enroute) guided me in to this job. Job? A calling.

I might moan about so called timewasters at 3am, or lack of sleep, or strange colleagues, or management...but in the end I'm in my dream environment.

- ~ -

I sit in a truck covered in pretty flashing lights. I am allowed to make noises with my siren. I get paid to do so.

That little kid on the side of the road staring with a dropped jaw at the ambulance whizzing by? That kid has (physically) grown up and is writing these very words.

And is extremely happy :-)