The Bomb Scare

Sometimes the most interesting things happen when you decide to stay in on a Saturday night.

After a long day training for my volunteer work with La Comision Española al Ayudo del Refugiado, I decided to remain at home last night to cook a meal, watch some television, play some guitar, and catch up on sleep.

I managed to meet my simple goals at 10:00 and decided to head to bed. Just as I changed into into my pajamas, I heard my buzzer ringing over and over again. My roommates had left for the night, so I figured one of them left their keys and needed me to buzz them into the apartment. I picked up the phone and heard a police officer demanding to be let in. I complied with his request and open my piso's door to see two officers running up the stairs and knocking on each door.

As they ran up to my floor, one of the officers told me to get dressed and open the windows in my piso to reduce the pressure in the building; I instantly knew that emergency revolved around a bomb threat or a fire. I asked him to explain the nature of the emergency to no avail; getting out was more important, anyhow. I immediately ran into my apartment to open the windows and turned around to ask the officer if I needed to open or close anything else in the apartment. He stepped into the apartment, saw the door, nodded, and then told me to change into street clothes. I dashed into my room, changed into street clothes, and ran outside with 40 euros, my digital camera, and my wallet.

When I exited my building, an officer directed me towards the left side of the street, which fed into Plaza de España, the public square that anchors the west side of Madrid. Police trucks blocked off both sides of my street, Calle Leganitos, as officers were running into and out of buildings to evacuate occupants from the area. I walked towards the main street as another officer waved me to the right, where a crowd was standing on the side of Grand Via, another major thoroughfares that runs parallel to my street.

As I was walking towards the crowd, I began to ask the bystanders about the evacuation. A server from one of the hotels near my street told me that the police station on my street received a bomb threat from an unknown source. I stood around for ten minutes before deciding to meet up with my friends for a drink in Sol. I figured it would be a better idea to leave the area in the case something went wrong on the street. As I left, I decided to not take photographs to avoid any harassment from the police at the scene.

I met up with my friends for half an hour and decided to return to my street. As I drew near the area around my neighborhood, I noticed that cars were driving through Leganitos. I drew a sigh of relief and continued walking home. I did not notice anything that would suggest that the area could have been the scene of a terrorist attack.

Of course, who would have been the group/individual responsible for such an attack? The description from the story suggests that it could have been a cell of the ETA, the Basque separatist group that has been at war with the Spanish government since the late 1970s. The terrorist group's general modus operandi is to call warn police officials about an impending attack on a site -- perhaps the police station, in this instance -- to reduce the number of casualties. Given that French forces recently captured the ETA's military head in southern France, the terrorist group might seek to make a statement against the operation.

That said, Police forces have remained silent about the incident, leaving me to speculate about the source of the call. In the meanwhile, I am grateful for the good karma and luck that threat was a false alarm. Having suffered from attacks from the 30 year war with the ETA and the 3/11/2004 terrorist bombings by an radical Islamic terrorists, the Spanish people do not deserve another attack to claim more lives; no one does.

More personally, the experience has given me a little more insight into the lives of my Spanish friends. Although our countries -- and England, as well -- have experienced terrorist attacks from radical Islamic terrorists, I realize that they must deal with the daily reality that their country remains in a struggle with another terrorist group capable of inflicting small scale attacks at any given hour. It is a sobering revelation, certainly. But it is a crucial one to realize if I am to gain greater insight into the lives of the people who live in this country.