It was late and it was cold and it was not long after they'd swung around the southern edge of Lake Michigan when the night transformed to a winter hellscape: snow storm, high winds, low visibility, black ice, white knuckles.
It was still this side of midnight on that lonesome stretch of Indiana interstate when these two college pals, let's call them Jack and Mike because those are their names, saw the vehicle changing lanes in front of them fly off the Indiana Toll Road, across the right shoulder, down an embankment, into a ditch.
Jack Zagrocki of Pittsburgh and Mike Oblich of Erie, students at Notre Dame returning to campus after spring break, had landed at O'Hare from Fort Lauderdale only hours earlier. They were still in their shorts and Florida beach wear, everything but those helmets that hold the two beer cans with the little hose, which is key.
"Left those in Florida," Jack cracked.
What to do in this situation? Well, luckily for the people in the ditch, neither Jack nor Mike was aware there were choices.
"He probably flew down that ditch 10 feet or so," said Mike. "We were kind of in shock, like 'Oh crap.' We pulled off to the side of the road. We just ran down there and the car's windshield was busted in. There were tree branches sticking through it, the car's doors were kind of warped. We talked to them and it seemed like they were completely in shock.
"Jack called 911 and I helped Andy out of the car and we got them back to our car."
Andy was Andy Kravetz, traveling with his 12-year-old daughter to a hockey tournament in, as it happened, South Bend. He was also Coach Kravetz, hauling hockey equipment to said tournament. He was also a reporter for the Peoria Journal Star.
"Thanks to them, it really wasn't that bad of an experience," Andy was telling me the other day. "But it could have been; that's why I hope these guys are really lauded for it. I mean think of it. You're 38 miles from where you're going. It's dark, it's snowing, it's cold, the windshield is broken out in the car. All our stuff is covered in glass. There's nowhere to stand on the side of the road. And these guys had so many chances to bail, right? They called the cops for us, they could have bailed then.
"Instead they took us to their car and let us sit in the back of their car for 45 minutes while the cops came. They could have bailed then. But no, they loaded our gear into their car and when they found out we were going to South Bend, they drove us there, right to our hotel. They wound up carrying our bags into the hotel before they left.
"Who does that stuff?"
Depending on whom you ask, it's either anybody and everybody or nobody and no how. Jack and Mike have described their reaction as basic human nature, so how come people are still talking about this wintry adventure a month after it happened?
Notre Dame wound up issuing a press release, and the whole Angels on the Interstate narrative generated a life of its own.
"We don't think we deserve a whole lot of attention for this, it's just somethin' we did," said Jack, who went to Central Catholic. "But I've gotten texts from high school teachers, old professors, parents of friends from high school. It's made its mark, I guess. It's surprising."
Apparently the outpouring of attaboys isn't because a lot of people would have done exactly the same thing, but because a lot of people wouldn't.
"A lot of people in the world right now are pretty cynical about things; they're lookin' out for No. 1," said Mike, the Erie Cathedral Prep grad. "I think it's just that a good deed is something we can all applaud and all strive to have done in a situation; it kind of gives everyone who's ever done a small good deed or big good deed that didn't get noticed — it resonates for them, all the people who've done a good deed that never really got noticed or recognized.
"A lot of good deeds happen without recognition."
It helped in no small amount that Jack and Mike were well-equipped to handle this particular circumstance. Jack is an experienced lifeguard certified in CPR, and Mike is biochemistry/pre-med major with a minor in compassionate care.
None of which, as Andy points out, required them to do anything that night. Andy's covered cops and crime at the Journal Star for some 30 years. He's seen people at their worst.
"That's the important part of the story — that they don't think it's a story," he said. "That's just what good folks do. When people are in need, you're supposed to do that, but how many of us can say we would act that way. Our culture has evolved into a place where we only care about ourselves. But these guys spent almost three hours doing the right thing after right thing after right thing."
One other grace note. Jack and Mike had cut one day off their spring break and came back to campus early. No stated reason. That was just the plan. That must be what angels do.
