An Event That Altered My Perspective: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and afterward There Was a Little Girl Sobbing.
The moment I realized the end was near came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My closest companion, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to catch up with an old university friend who had just relocated there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we talked incessantly as we journeyed by train from York.
We put our suitcases – packed with necessities such as bottles of wine and the clogs I had just bought – on the overhead rack and settled down in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. This was followed by a second, which could not be dismissed. A woman screamed 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. Looking down, eyes screwed shut, I anticipated the carriage to flip and explode, like in the movies. I recall pondering our relatives and companions getting the news. Subsequently, there was the little girl crying.
“It's going to be fine,” I said softly, speaking with a rasp. “It’s all over,” I stated, more to myself than her.
Her age was roughly seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; here was my chance to help. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Avoid looking back,” Helen yelled, the warning came after the fact. I saw a man with blood all over his face. An enormous piece of metal had penetrated the window behind us. Subsequently, we discovered a uncontrolled excavator had rolled down the hill and collided with the train, causing us to derail.
Our carriage was stuck with its nose pointing upward. Following that came of sirens and a fellow passenger requested that I to pass the little girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, where children were being evacuated to emergency personnel below. A few minutes later, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and scaling a ladder down onto the railway line.
Once back on solid ground – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I looked for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been using the restroom when the crash occurred. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. A fellow passenger plonked down on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – however, fortunately our wine stayed unbroken. After a half-hour wait, we traveled in a free cab to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our host was there, pale with worry. She knew there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and prepared some tea for her while she waited for news.
Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we pushed the derailment from our minds and proceeded with the social outing, which featured a unforgettable performance by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, even though several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I escaped with bruises and aches and pains from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The train had been slowing to enter Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in averting grave physical damage. The fact that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and calming her down distracted me from my own fear and showed me the value of directing attention externally in a crisis. Over the years, I have frequently pondered if she recalled any details, and what a major event it had been for her.
Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and Pudsey has become shorthand for our skill in managing any situation, so long as we are together. Being with her that day made it feel as if I was protected from the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my perspective on other types of crises, giving me perspective – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it is invariably an honor to get older.
