Not quite sure if this guy was actually dead or not, but he looked pretty dead.
Sixty years old. Crumpled on the street. Smacked by a taxi.
There were two cops there -- not touching the body at all -- who were clearing the area of tourists. The cab (which was stopped at an angle in the middle of the intersection) had its lights flashing.
Was this guy actually dead? Probably not.
But did I see him move?
Definitely not.
The only other accident I've witnessed was when a poor little rickshaw driver was biking his carriage down Broadway; he turned his head for a split second and never noticed the spotless white Lincoln SUV signalling left.
WHAM!
The look in the poor rickshaw driver's eyes was the look of a thousand despairs. No one was hurt, but there was definite damage to the vehicle. Mrs. Lincoln screeched her SUV to a halt and wobbled out of the driver's seat, inspecting the scratches.
I booted it out of there. Seeing a dead guy is one thing, but seeing a man who can barely make ends meet get told that he'll have to work the rest of his life to pay for two car dints is heartbreaking on a whole other level.
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