An Event That Transformed My Perspective: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and subsequently There Was a Young Girl Sobbing.
That instant I realized my life was in danger arrived during my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to visit an old university friend who had recently moved there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the social gathering to come, we chatted nonstop as we journeyed by train from York.
We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as wine bottles and my new pair of black clogs – on the overhead rack and got seated in a cosy two-seater. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Another one sounded, this time impossible to ignore. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like slow motion. Suddenly, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. With my head lowered, eyes screwed shut, I expected the carriage to flip and explode, like in the movies. My thoughts turned to our loved ones getting the news. Subsequently, there was the young girl weeping.
“It's going to be fine,” I whispered, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I murmured, mostly for my own benefit.
She was about seven or eight years old, and looked like she had no guardian. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; now I could do something meaningful. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don’t look round,” Helen shouted, too late. I saw a man with his face covered in blood. An enormous piece of metal had crashed through the window behind us. Afterward, we found out a runaway digger had descended the slope and into the side of the train, leading to the derailment.
Our car was lodged with its front end in the air. Then came the noise of sirens and another traveler requested that I to give the girl to him so he could help her out the window, where children were being evacuated to waiting firefighters. Not long afterward, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.
Once back on solid ground – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I searched for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. One of the passengers plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – however, fortunately our wine was unharmed. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we traveled in a provided car to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had broken Helen’s case. Our friend was waiting, ashen-faced. She knew there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and prepared some tea for her while she anticipated updates.
With the invincibility of youth, we pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which featured a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, even though several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the violent forward motion in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to enter Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in preventing major harm. Given that nobody was badly hurt helped not to focus on the “what ifs” but that young girl who left a lasting impact on me. Attending to her and soothing her shifted my focus outward and demonstrated the worth of focusing on others in a crisis. As time passed, I have frequently pondered if she remembered anything about it, and how significant it had been for her.
Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our ability to cope any situation, so long as we are together. Being with her that day created the sensation that I was shielded against the most terrifying aspects. The crash also changed my method of handling other types of crises, giving me perspective – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it is invariably an honor to grow older.