From Triumph to Tragedy

There were grim faces and extra police officers on the NYC subway this morning. The bomb blasts in Britain happened too late to be reported in this morning's papers in New York, but many of us had seen the news before we'd left home. And there was a sad irony now to the photo that covered most of the top half of today's New York Times cover: thousands of Londoners celebrating after hearing yesterday that their city would host the 2012 Olympics. As I scanned the smiling faces in the photo I wondered if any of them had been at the King's Cross, Edgware, Russell Square, or Moorgate stations this morning when the explosions happened.
My heart dropped when my train stopped in the tunnel under the East River. It was a normal occurence during weekday rush hour, when trains tended to stack up, but my mind raced with alternative scenarios. I couldn't relax until we started moving again and emerged from the tunnel at First Avenue. Even then, I caught myself watching the digital clock in the subway nervously. The first of the four bombs in London had gone off at 8:51 am, London time, the height of rush hour, and the last blast occurred nearly an hour later. It was 8:41 when I got off the train at 8th Avenue. I felt some relief knowing that I would be at the gym for the next hour.
Almost every television at the sports club--both the large sets mounted on the walls and the smaller screens attached to the exercise equipment--were turned to CNN. Images of bloodied and bewildered British commuters filled the screens. I plugged my headphones into one of the sets to hear an update. At the time, only two people had been confirmed dead in the blasts. But there were more than 160 injured. And 'several bodies" had yet to be recovered.
I only have two friends in London: Kris, a high school friend, and Iris, a friend from college, who had been preparing for a move to Germany anyway (if she hasn't moved already). So the chances of either of them or their spouses being on the bus or trains that were targeted are pretty slim. But watching the images on TV, I was overcome by a wave of emotion. I could barely hold back the tears. Perhaps it was the memory of living in London for nine months in 1993, during which time the IRA set off a series of bombs. I remember being stranded twice in central London after bomb alerts shut down the "Tube" stations I normally used. (Although in those cases, the IRA almost always called ahead of time with a warning, so there were few if any fatalities. In this case, it seems, the terrorists were hoping for as many casualties as possible). Or, perhaps, seeing hundreds of commuters running from smoky subway stations brought back memories of 9/11. Whatever the reason, I had to turn the channel.
Now that I'm at work, the news is unavoidable. We've been getting regular reports from our London bureau, and the television in my office has been covering the attacks non-stop since I arrived here an hour and 20 minutes ago.
The death toll has now risen to 33. Reports say seven were killed in a first explosion in an underground railway tunnel near Moorgate on the edge of London's financial district, 21 in a second near King's Cross and another five at Edgware Road station in west London. No figures have been released yet on the bus blast near Russell Square, but it's likely that some passengers were killed as the blast ripped off the top of the double decker bus. The terror alert in New York has risen as well--as have the anxiety levels of all those who live here. Everyone is on edge. No one talks about it, but we know that it could just as easily have happened here--and still could.