On Bridges

When I make my weekly trek to the Evil Empire, the Super Satan - you know, Walmart, I have to cross a bridge over the Kanawha River. Today, they were doing something construction-y on the bridge and had one lane closed off.

I started thinking about the bridge tragedy that happened a week or so ago in Minnesota and I also got to thinking about how rickety the Nitro-St. Albans (or Dick Henderson Memorial Bridge) is. Then, I thought of the murky, filthy water below it.

This river should be called the Kanawha Sewer, if people wanted to be more properly informed. I remember once I went on my boss' boat and hopping from the dock to the deck of his large boat was very intimidating. I made everyone around hold on to me and help me as I hopped across. The thoughts of being submerged in that filthy swamp almost had me hyperventilating.

Here's an even scarier scenario: at our local Regatta (a local event with different activities all weekend and bands and such), they have a swimming race. IN the Kanawha. Gag. There is no prize large enough for me to want to compete in that little event. You'd be lucky to walk away without e Coli, but there were dozens of contestants this year as in years' past, as well.

So, I drove across the rickety bridge and prayed that it would hold out one more time, so I wouldn't be trying to get myself and my "trapped in her car seat" baby out and then proceed to swim to shore in what is quite possibly nothing more than a conduit for fecal matter.

Come to think of it, the Dunbar bridge don't look so hot these days either. And I routinely cross that one as well. Maybe I should start playing the lottery too, just so my luck won't run out. Hee hee.