First Draft of Reportage Piece
I went to London in the summer of 2007 with the primary intent of meeting up with a group of people I had met online. Given that we had all come across each other on a peer support forum, it was to be expected that the gathering might not be entirely positive. However, it turned out worse than anyone had considered possible.
We met on a Saturday, in a bar. There were ten of us, all of whom had exchanged conversation in cyberspace at some point or another, and most of us had met at least one other person in the group already. We had a rather good time that first night, everyone got on well and there were no problems. The next day however, I received a phone call from my closest girl friend in the group, Sammie. Her purse had been stolen on the Underground and she was understandably distraught. She had no money, no cashpoint card, nothing. Luckily she had already paid for her hotel and return train ticket, but otherwise it was down to us to give her money. We rallied round, and she was managing all right. Since we were all spread out across London, two of us and Sammie went to the cinema to see the newly-released Harry Potter film, the others choosing not to bother.
When we came out afterwards, Sammie was unusually quiet. We went to Burger King but she refused to eat anything, saying she shouldn’t when she couldn’t afford it. She ran off to the toilets and we panicked a little before deciding on a typically childish plan of action - if she continued the next day, we would refuse to eat too, and guilt trip her into eating. When she returned she was quieter still, and we didn’t know what to say or do. We decided to go back to our hotels for the night, as we didn’t want to be out too late on our own in an unfamiliar city. As we went to the Leicester Square Underground station, I made a snap decision that we should accompany Sammie back to her hotel before going to our own - to this day I don’t know what prompted that, but I am ever thankful for it.
When we got to the platform, there was a train waiting, and I dived on to it. I heard someone calling my name, and realised that the others were not following. Hastily I got back out, to find that Sammie had collapsed against the wall, clearly upset. Suddenly she surged forwards, trying to run to the edge of the platform, but we grabbed her arms and held on tightly. Combined, we weighed slightly less than her, and she had a good five inches on my friend, nine on me. Still we managed to push her against the wall again. She was crying and shaking, and we had no idea what to do. She tried I think three more times to get past us, as we argued with her depressed logic, tried to talk her around. She kept pleading with us to just let her go, in between fits of crying. People came up to us and asked if we needed help, but neither of us dared let her go. It was only around twenty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime, kneeling on the platform, tears running down my cheeks, trains going past and strangers staring, too scared to let go of her for fear she would grab the opportunity. Eventually a female worker came up to us and my other friend, Joe, explained the situation quietly. We got Sammie to her feet again, it seemed at last that all the fight was gone from her, and as they led us up an escalator to the control room we held her hands tightly. When we got to the control room they sat us down and asked us questions and we made small talk, and it struck me how calm everyone was. I simply couldn’t process it.
The Road Transport Police came and took us to the University College Hospital in the back of their van, and we sat anxiously in the waiting room while they evaluated her, going outside to call our parents and then just waiting. I remember how all I could think of was that my Minnie Mouse t-shirt was inappropriate for such a serious event, how when Joe’s parents came to pick us up and take us all back to their house for the night it was around two in the morning and we were all slightly hysterical, how scared we all were that something was going to happen while we were supposed to be looking after Sammie. When we woke up the next morning, everything looked unbelievably normal, the house exactly as it had been when I had visited a few months before. My whole outlook had changed, however, and the only testament to that was the dirt ground into the knees of my jeans.
We met on a Saturday, in a bar. There were ten of us, all of whom had exchanged conversation in cyberspace at some point or another, and most of us had met at least one other person in the group already. We had a rather good time that first night, everyone got on well and there were no problems. The next day however, I received a phone call from my closest girl friend in the group, Sammie. Her purse had been stolen on the Underground and she was understandably distraught. She had no money, no cashpoint card, nothing. Luckily she had already paid for her hotel and return train ticket, but otherwise it was down to us to give her money. We rallied round, and she was managing all right. Since we were all spread out across London, two of us and Sammie went to the cinema to see the newly-released Harry Potter film, the others choosing not to bother.
When we came out afterwards, Sammie was unusually quiet. We went to Burger King but she refused to eat anything, saying she shouldn’t when she couldn’t afford it. She ran off to the toilets and we panicked a little before deciding on a typically childish plan of action - if she continued the next day, we would refuse to eat too, and guilt trip her into eating. When she returned she was quieter still, and we didn’t know what to say or do. We decided to go back to our hotels for the night, as we didn’t want to be out too late on our own in an unfamiliar city. As we went to the Leicester Square Underground station, I made a snap decision that we should accompany Sammie back to her hotel before going to our own - to this day I don’t know what prompted that, but I am ever thankful for it.
When we got to the platform, there was a train waiting, and I dived on to it. I heard someone calling my name, and realised that the others were not following. Hastily I got back out, to find that Sammie had collapsed against the wall, clearly upset. Suddenly she surged forwards, trying to run to the edge of the platform, but we grabbed her arms and held on tightly. Combined, we weighed slightly less than her, and she had a good five inches on my friend, nine on me. Still we managed to push her against the wall again. She was crying and shaking, and we had no idea what to do. She tried I think three more times to get past us, as we argued with her depressed logic, tried to talk her around. She kept pleading with us to just let her go, in between fits of crying. People came up to us and asked if we needed help, but neither of us dared let her go. It was only around twenty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime, kneeling on the platform, tears running down my cheeks, trains going past and strangers staring, too scared to let go of her for fear she would grab the opportunity. Eventually a female worker came up to us and my other friend, Joe, explained the situation quietly. We got Sammie to her feet again, it seemed at last that all the fight was gone from her, and as they led us up an escalator to the control room we held her hands tightly. When we got to the control room they sat us down and asked us questions and we made small talk, and it struck me how calm everyone was. I simply couldn’t process it.
The Road Transport Police came and took us to the University College Hospital in the back of their van, and we sat anxiously in the waiting room while they evaluated her, going outside to call our parents and then just waiting. I remember how all I could think of was that my Minnie Mouse t-shirt was inappropriate for such a serious event, how when Joe’s parents came to pick us up and take us all back to their house for the night it was around two in the morning and we were all slightly hysterical, how scared we all were that something was going to happen while we were supposed to be looking after Sammie. When we woke up the next morning, everything looked unbelievably normal, the house exactly as it had been when I had visited a few months before. My whole outlook had changed, however, and the only testament to that was the dirt ground into the knees of my jeans.