Hanover Street / I-95 Fire
"Do you know what that smoke's from?" my friend asked.
"No," I said, "But it's coming from right around where my house is."
I turned down Hanover Street. An old lady hustling the other way said "A car hit the bridge and exploded," but as I looked south I could see flames rising from the on-ramp. The next person said a tanker truck had turned over on the overpass, but you couldn't see anything but black smoke then. Later my nieghbor said a tanker truck had crashed and burning fuel had fallen from the on-ramp onto passing cars, causing them to explode. The flaming tide was on its way down Hanover Street.
Which it wasn't. But a tanker had overturned, and it's flaming fuel had spread. The smoke started out dark gray and turned within fifteen minutes into a thick black cloud. At their hightest the flames on the overpass must have reached fifteen feet. Everyone in South Baltimore was out watching. Young folk flirted in the streets and sat on their stoops. Kids leaned against their parent's restricting hands. The long lines of rowhomes on Hanover framed the fire as if a director had set up the shot. The police helicopter screamed through it's megaphone "get on the sidewalk so the fire trucks can pass."
The first fire truck's stream of water seemed futile, like fighting a bonfire with a squirt gun. Then another stream joined, from somewhere on the other side of the flames. The smoke had begun to spread now. Then with a burst like a geyser a foam spraying truck joined the fight. You could see the water streaming off the overpass like a waterfall. A moment later the foam had coated the side of the overpass in white. It looked frozen, coated in ice, and flameless.
But two hours later flames still rose from the bridge. Just now, five hours later, a burst of sirens coursed down the street. From online news reports it appears the driver of the tanker truck is dead. I just happened to be there. That's my picture, above, from my camera. So I saw how it is, when Baltimore burns.
