WTF?!

Why Aren’t We Talking About The Bridge That Fell In Miami

Ezinne Ukoha
5 min readApr 10, 2018

Why aren’t we obsessed with the story about the 174-foot bridge that literally buckled and collapsed with no warning in mid-March of this year? It was a frightening news report and the images were even more horrific — as the remnants of crushed cars — containing the deceased bodies of drivers and passengers — peaked out from the massive rubble that took almost a whole week to extract.

President Trump has had very little to say about this national tragedy — which sets the tone for media outlets to guiltlessly drop the ball by continuing the non-stop coverage about his past and present sexual activities — and how those results will determine the temperature of a relentlessly toxic administration.

If this was 1981 — there would be no way in hell that something as dramatic as a falling bridge in the middle of a vibrant city would just get the basic treatment.

Reporters would continue their quest for answers with nightly updates and investigative programs that aim to figure out how something this reckless and deadly can happen in broad daylight — and what can be done to ensure that it never happens again.

The pedestrian bridge that was built to connect Florida International University and the city of Sweetwater gave way in the middle of the afternoon — at a very busy time of day — and the accident claimed the lives of six people — ranging in age from 57–18 and seriously wounded dozens more.

One of the injured — a male student at the university — shakily recounted the minutes prior to the bridge crashing down — as his best friend — Alexa Duran — 18 — manned the steering wheel and brought them to a halt as they waited for the signal to move. They discussed plans for the next day and other stuff that college friends tend to converse about during lunch breaks.

Suddenly he hears a weird cackling sound and before he can make eye contact with his buddy — tons of concrete hit them all at once and with such force that when the dust clears — all that remains of his dear friend is her dark brown long hair — hanging from the smashed interior.

--

--