On the morning of July 7, 2005 I awoke with excitement. I was looking forward to a fun-filled weekend tour of the beautiful landscapes of Ireland. I sluggishly gathered my belongings and met the group in the lobby at around 8:15 a.m. Some members lagged behind, but we finally began walking to the Baker Tube Station. As usual, the Tube Station was packed! Much like rush hour on the Dallas highways at home, the Tube “rush hour” occurs every morning and evening as thousands of Londoners board the small, compact, underground cars.
Our SMU group of around 30 students swiped our Oyster Cards and walked through the turnstiles without a thought crossing our minds, and we quickly hopped in the heated cars to Euston Station. When we arrived at Euston Station, we attempted to board our train to Ireland. However, we waited and waited in the lobby due to extreme delays. Little did we know that a mere 200 yards away from our train station a No.30 bus at Edgware Road was about to explode, leaving many dead and severely injured.
After finally boarding the train, I began to fall asleep, hoping to catch up on some much needed rest. Approximately one hour later, I was awoken by Pattie Alvey, a SMU advertising professor who accompanied our group to Ireland. “Kelly, you need to call your parents and let them know you are OK,” she said. “There have been some bombings in London.”
“What!” I thought. Emotions swirled through my mind as I dialed my home phone number. When my father picked up I explained to him that I was OK but begged him for more information. As the story began to unravel on the train from various phone calls, I was in shock. This event was all too similar to the attacks brought on to the United States on Sept. 11.
I wondered if my friends who had not accompanied the group to Dublin would be OK. In a mere two weeks in London, I had met many new friends. “Were they on the Tube, or the No.30 bus?” I wondered. My extra sleep was not even a possibility now. Frantically, I called everyone I knew in London to make sure they had survived the attacks. I was relived to know that none of my SMU and London friends were victims of any bombings.
After a 13 hour trip to Ireland, my mind was still focused on the attacks. I couldn’t help but think, “That could have been me!” I think that God was truly watching over me and the rest of the SMU group that Thursday. It wasn’t over for us.
But he did send a clear wake-up call to me. I often take every day for granted, thinking I will always have tomorrow. I am sure that this is what many of the innocent victims thought on Thursday morning, but they did not get a second chance. Maybe this is our second chance. Every time I board the Tube station now, thoughts of the victims plague my mind. I want to reach out and help them, but I can’t. I nervously look around the station to make sure that there are no suspicious Muslim-looking men around me. I unconsciously shy away from seats next to women dressed in Muslim clothing. Maybe this is wrong, but I cannot seem to escape these “scared” thoughts.
