It was such a simple scenario; the wrong place at the wrong time. Walking through the rain at 1:00 am on Halloween I had unknowingly led us astray.
Chris Bennett was supposed to be there at the bar, he said he’d meet us out front. Lily and Chelsea were already there waiting somewhat impatiently, wondering what exactly had gone wrong. I got a drink for Donna and continued looking at a rather empty bar, not at all what I had expected to find at The Shamrock, especially after the sounds that came from the phone last time I’d talked to Chris.
We decided to smuggle our drinks out of the bar. Lily gave up without attempt, I failed and returned my drink to the bar and Chelsea was the victor as we walked back out into the rain, sharing her cocktail on our way to the muni station.
Upon arrival at the station I noticed some amazing lighting, readied my camera and prepared to photograph costumed women who were my company for the evening. Before I could get a single shot out Lily told me to turn around.
I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but looking back I realize that I began to witness a fight between two men in the street and the driver of a car. There was a second car involved and I wasn’t immediately sure how everybody in this scenario was related, but one man was certainly being accosted by two others. Instinctually I immediately began photographing the event, forgetting my other senses and paying no attention to things non-visual.
I remember one thing other than the sights, and that was the sound of the bottle breaking.
17 seconds later there was nothing left worth photographing so I gave my camera to Lily and relinquished photographer for man in charge.
When I reached out for him to see if he was OK I felt shards of glass on his shoulder. He was walking, he was able to speak somewhat coherently so I checked other people who may have been attacked while I was paying attention to other folks. “I’m fine, it was my brother who was attacked.” Turning from the man who said that I found a girl who was shaken, irritated, and told me she was OK before proceeding back to the passenger seat of the car. I approached the driver side windows and once again felt the victims head, feeling only glass and no blood. He was already in the driver’s seat, he seemed coherent, and I honestly had no clue how to handle the situation beyond photography and adjudication.
Sitting down and trying to take stock of the situation, I looked up and saw the Mucky Duck. Chris Bennett was not at the Shamrock, he was at the Mucky Duck, and he was probably wondering where the hell we were. I crossed the glass on the train tracks in the road and headed towards the Mucky Duck. Chris was there, jolly with company and happy to see us. This was now the right place at the right time.