An Incident That Altered My Perspective: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and subsequently I Overheard a Young Girl Sobbing.
The moment it dawned on me I was about to die occurred in my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My closest companion, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to visit an old university friend who had just relocated there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and enjoying the thought of the party weekend ahead, we talked incessantly as we traveled by train from York.
We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as wine bottles and my brand-new black clogs – in the storage compartment and settled down in a cosy two-seater. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Then came another, this time impossible to ignore. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. Looking down, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our relatives and companions hearing the tragic update. That's when the sound of the young girl weeping.
“Everything is okay,” I murmured, my voice sounding croaky. “It’s all over,” I murmured, primarily to calm my own nerves.
She was about seven or eight years old, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her crying shook me out of my trance; this was my opportunity to be useful. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, too late. I caught sight of a man with blood all over his face. A large metallic item had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we found out a driverless construction vehicle 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. Following that came of sirens and another traveler requested that I to give the girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, as kids were being rescued to emergency personnel below. A few minutes later, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and descending via a ladder on to the track.
Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. 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. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. Another traveler sat down heavily on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – however, fortunately our wine stayed unbroken. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our university friend greeted us, visibly shaken. She was aware there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and offered her a hot drink while she hoped for information.
With the invincibility of youth, we set the accident aside and carried on with our night out, which involved a memorable turn 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 escaped with bruises and general soreness from the violent forward motion in the carriage. The train had been slowing to come into Leeds station, which had been the key factor in preventing major harm. Given that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who left a lasting impact on me. Attending to her and calming her down helped take my mind off myself and taught me the value of directing attention externally in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she recalled any details, and how big a deal it had been for her.
Helen and I have remained friends for thirty-plus years and That location's name now symbolizes for our ability to cope with anything, so long as we are together. Being with her that day created the sensation that I was protected from the full horror of the event. The derailment further transformed my perspective on other types of crises, providing me with insight – and reminding me that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is invariably an honor to get older.
