An Incident That Altered Me: My Train Was in an Accident – and then There Was a Child Crying.
That instant I knew I was about to die arrived during my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My best friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to reunite with a friend from college 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 traveled by train from York.
We placed our luggage – containing vital items such as bottles of wine and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and settled down in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks 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, similar to cinematic scenes. I remember thinking our relatives and companions receiving the notification. Then I heard the little girl crying.
“It's going to be fine,” I said softly, my tone was hoarse. “It’s all over,” I murmured, more to myself than her.
She was about seven or eight years old, and looked like she had no guardian. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; now I could do something meaningful. I went to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don't turn around,” Helen yelled, the warning came after the fact. I saw a man with his face covered in blood. An enormous piece of metal had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we found out a driverless construction vehicle had descended the slope and smashed into our carriage, making the train leave the tracks.
Our compartment was trapped with its leading section elevated. Following that came of sirens and another traveler requested that I to hand the child over so he could help her out the window, where children were being evacuated to waiting firefighters. A few minutes later, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.
Back on terra firma – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned 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. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers plonked down on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. Following a 30-minute delay, we proceeded in a free cab to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the female passenger who had damaged the suitcase. Our university friend greeted us, visibly shaken. She knew there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and prepared some tea for her while she hoped for information.
Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which involved a unforgettable performance by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, despite the fact that several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I sustained only bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to approach Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in avoiding serious injury. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to obsess over the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who made a permanent impression. Attending to her and calming her down distracted me from my own fear and taught me the worth of directing attention externally in a crisis. Over the years, I have often wondered if she remembered anything about it, and how big a deal it had been for her.
Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades and "Pudsey" is now our code word for our skill in managing any situation, provided we have each other. Being with her that day created the sensation that I was insulated from the most terrifying aspects. The accident additionally altered my perspective on different emergencies, offering me a new viewpoint – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is invariably an honor to get older.
