"Some days you find the content --
Some days the content finds you."
- Ancient blogging proverb.

So I was driving home from work tonight, and in the last mile, driving up Telegraph Avenue, I found myself driving behind an ambulance, 'off,' driving with traffic.

I noticed that the lights were on inside, and I could see the med-tech, leaning against the back (err, front) of the van, his back against the driver's seat, dozing.

A small part of me thought, "Wow, a long day for the EMT. He's probably catching a little shuteye while he can before the next emergency.

Ever the vigilant blogger, (err, journaller, err, blogger, err, documentor) I took my Elph out from my jacket pocket, waited until we were both stopped at a light (Telegraph @ Alcatraz, northbound, right lane), turned off the flash, and snapped a pic:

On preview (err, postview) I noticed the picture was a little blurry, so I wanted to take another. Of course, it would have to be without a flash. Two panes of glass, a dirty windshield, and 20 feet dont make for good flash conditions, and two moving vehicles don't make for good non-flash dark photography conditions. So I stayed behind them, waiting for the next stoplight.

Keeping my eye on the EMT, I caught a momentary glimpse lower into the ambulance, and I could see that he wasn't sleeping, but was slowly writing on a clipboard, always looking down at the paper, head unmoving, hand writing low on the form.

Webster; red light; no, green before we get there. Ashby is next, red light (and a long one). I get ready with the camera, but the ambulance turns its blinker on and edges to the right, never coming to a full stop. I can't get a good shot, and don't try. As it's accelerating out of the turn, pivoting up as it climbs onto the crowned road, I can see fully inside the ambulance. I can see that there's a patient on a gurney. I can see the face of a handsome black man in his late 20s. I see how his eyes are closed on an expressionless face, and his head lolls with the van. As the van edges up Ashby to Alta Bates, I realize that it was in no hurry. I realize that what I had originally assumed to be a resting EMT, then one filling out a little paperwork, is actually a man steadfastly keeping his gaze lowered to avoid the face of the dead man he's sharing the van with.