As I rolled out of bed in the early morning, I checked the messages on my phone. I saw a strange message from Ken Jr regarding the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge. I rubbed my eyes to ensure that they were seeing clearly. Then I checked the message again and the result was the same. So, I rushed downstairs where Tina was pouring her first cup of morning coffee.
"Have you heard anything about the Key Bridge?", I asked.
She replied, "What are you talking about?"
I grabbed the remote and woke up the kitchen television. As the TV screen came to life, both of our jaws dropped. With a mangled collection of steel protruding out of the water in the background, the news headline confirmed what we did not want to hear...
My first recollections of the Key Bridge go back to when I was a young boy. My best friend's Dad (Mr. Don) worked at the old Bethlehem Steel plant in Sparrows Point. He would tell us how the bridge would make his daily commute to work so much easier. The steel plant would be located just past the east side of the bridge. The bridge construction was finally completed in 1977. I can't really remember the first time I personally went over the bridge, but I suspect that it was with Mr. Don. I remember that he always had a book of yellow tickets on the dashboard of his truck. These were the "frequent flyer" tickets that you could buy for a discount if you frequently traveled the bridge (or nearby Harbor Tunnel).
Years later, I remember getting my first speeding ticket on the bridge. The bridge was empty and a sudden thought of "What would Steve McQueen do?" overwhelmed me. So, after slowly proceeding through the toll booth on the east side (there was no EZ-Pass back then), I accelerated towards the top of the bridge. Sitting high atop the Patapsco River, I felt like an eagle with four wheels. As I approached the peak of the bridge, I was really cruising. As I started the descent on the Curtis Bay side of the bridge, I thought about letting off of the gas. But there were no other cars in front of me, so it was full speed ahead....
When I came off of the bridge, my peripheral vison quickly transitioned from the Patapsco River to a Maryland Transportation Authority Police car. Without slamming on the brakes, I tried my best to slow down before passing the MTA cop. I thought I might have decelerated just enough to stay off of his radar. As I made that familiar glance in my rearview mirror, I realized that I didn't. He came off of the shoulder of the road with his lights a-flashin'. He clocked me at 74 mph. I was actually relived that it was "only" 74. He gave me the speeding ticket and I proceeded home at the posted speed limit.
When I was a teenager, I would occasionally party with friends at Fort Armistead Park. The fort was built at the turn of the 20th century and initially served as a coastal defense base. But it was eventually abandoned and left to the partiers and graffiti artists. The park sat just at the foot of the Key Bridge. After knocking back a cooler full of Budweiser with friends, the bridge was always a magnificent sight as it stretched across the star-lit sky. Sitting on the edge of the river, you felt like you could almost reach out at touch it.
Several years later, I found myself working at the nearby US Gypsum plant. I worked in the manufacturing (or board department) part of the plant. But occasionally I would get "invited" to help unload one of the gypsum ships. These ships would travel down from Nova Scotia and propel their way under the Key Bridge to the Baltimore plant. Baltimore is the country's #1 importer of gypsum. There's a pretty good chance that you have some of it hanging on your walls. The finished product is better known as Sheetrock.
In more recent years, I would occasionally travel over the Key Bridge to get to places like Johns Hopkins and other downtown Baltimore sites. It was a great alternative way to get there. I never quite understood it, but my phone signal would always drop midway over the bridge.
The familiar Baltimore landmark that I traveled over at marveled at for so many years is gone. In a matter of seconds, it was reduced to a pile of metal scattered in the river below. But the image of the Francis Scott Key Bridge standing firmly in front of the morning sun is something that I'll never forget...
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