Bomb Scare at Shannon Airport
“Helle” — Helene Nixon
Some years ago, my son Paul and I were at Shannon Airport and there was a bomb scare. We were staying at the hotel, but no one knew whether the bomb was in the hotel or in the airport or on the grounds or in one of the bins all over the place or whatever, and the hotel was evacuated just in case. And the people were evacuated to outside, and there was all this plate glass everywhere. If that bomb had gone off anyone standing outside would have been absolutely blasted to pieces.
As there was no proof the bomb was either in or not in the hotel, I decided I would stay in the hotel. I sat under the stairs in the hallway, and I said to Paul, “Paul, you must make your own decision, son. It’s your life. If there’s a bomb in the hotel we’ll be blown to pieces and if there’s a bomb outside we’ll be safe in here. Either way it’s kind of a chancy business but frankly it’s very cold looking out and the crowds are dreadful.” He said, “I’m gonna stay with you.”
So, we sat under the stairs, watching the people watching the security guards and all that stuff, and after about twenty minutes or so down the stairs came a doddering old priest with a bottle of gin in his hand. He was a very old man, and he looked over the banister and he said, “Why thanks be to God there’s somebody here I could have a drink with. I don’t like drinking be myself.”
He came down, sat on the floor with us, and he said, “Are you not frightened, love?”
I said, “Oh yes, I’m frightened.” I said, “I so frightened I can’t even pray, Father.”
He took one long look at me and says, “You’re from the North then, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes. I’m from the North.”
“Are you a Protestant?”
“Oh yes. I’m a Protestant.”
“Well,” he said, “Thanks be to God you’re too frightened to pray, for the good Lord would do the very opposite of what a Protestant might ask.”