A senseless act of violence…
The Bomb Went Off at the Parking of the Airport in Madrid (Spain).
… and killed two poor souls sleeping in their cars.
Since we (my wife, my son, and myself) hadn’t taken any vacation for quite some time, we took advantage of the Christmas’ stoppage of the year 2006, to go on vacation to the Canary Islands. More in concrete, we went to Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, from December 26, 2006, to January 1 °, 2007.
When we arrived at Barajas, Madrid’s airport, we parked our car on the second floor of the parking building of terminal 4 of the airport, from which our flight to Las Palmas was supposed to take off.
Eventually, we flew without a hitch on an Iberia’s plane, and on arrival at the island’s airport, we took a taxi to the hotel, the hotel located at one corner of the famous beach of Las Canteras.
In contrast with the cold and rainy weather of Madrid, both the island and its capital Las Palmas enjoyed a Spring’s climate (66 ° F), and the island and its beaches would embrace us until the 1st of January 2007, date at which we would come back to Madrid, because I had to work the following day.
In our taxi ride to the hotel, we passed in front of the port, Puerto de la Luz, which I had visited before a couple of times as a young boy (although I didn’t hold many memories of those occasions), as the island’s port was an almost obligated stopover to the vessels going or coming to Spain, to and from South America.
In my crossings of the Atlantic Ocean when I was younger, the ships had made stopovers in Puerto de la Luz to restock and refuel, and in one of those occasions I’d disembarked, and in the company of other Spanish youngsters and two girls from Canada we’d met onboard, we went through the streets surrounding the port, but I didn’t recall much about that visit, except that the girls were from a town named Medicine Hat, Canada, a name which — somehow — sticked to my memory, perhaps because of its indian flavor.
From the window of our room at the hotel, I could see the beach of Las Canteras full of people that morning, particularly Germans, who seem to have fallen in love with the Canary Islands, and with their mild winter’s climate.
The hotel was also located at the end of a commercial boulevard populated by shops on both sides of the street.
The beach was surrounded by a cement boardwalk, over which there was a narrow, paved track limited on the right side by a metallic fence, and on the left side by hotels, houses and apartments with their balconies in front of the sea.
The boardwalk, on which I used to jog, ran for 3.1 Km., and by the narrow track circulated, seemingly at any time, runners and some cyclists.
One of the afternoons, I went shopping with my wife to the commercial boulevard, ending at the San Telmo Park, which with its African palms and surrounded by coffee-shops (or cafeterias, as they are known in Spain) whose small tables at the open were always full of people resting or slowly sipping a coffee, was very much like any other Spanish city, in spite of the island being closer to the African coast.
The last day of the year, I found out from a small, adjustable to the arm radio which I used to jog, that the Basque terrorist group E.T.A., which by then was discussing its dissolution with the Spanish Government, had planted and made it explode a bomb of at least 200 Kg. of explosives in the T4, at the Barajas’ airport in Madrid on 12/26.
At that time, concentrated as I was into looking for a place to receive the New Year, I wasn’t too alarmed by the fact that the explosion had taken place in the T4, precisely the terminal where I’d parked our BMW 320 just a few days before. However, once I reserved and paid the tickets for the festivity of New Year’s Eve, with dinner, champagne, bag of favors and grapes of luck, I realized — very alarmed — the seriousness of the issue, as a few days before, we’d left our car in the T4, as I said, precisely where the bomb went off.
In effect, at the same time — 9 A.M. — my family and I (as I already said, my wife and my son traveled with me) had taken the Iberia flight to Gran Canaria on December 26.
What a nightmare!
I also heard on the radio that the terrorists had called one hour before the explosion to three different places, announcing that a car-bomb had been parked at the T4 of the Barajas airport, and that the bomb would be going off at 9 A.M., adding that any attempt to deactivate the bomb would make it explode.
The National Police then roped off and evacuated the area, and all flights programmed for the T4 of the airport were suspended, but in spite of the warning, the explosion caused 20 people injured and two deaths: two poor Ecuadorians who were slept in separated cars, and unfortunately didn’t hear the police’s notice of evacuation.
As planned, we took the flight back to Madrid on January the 1st, and on arrival to Madrid, at the airport itself, the Association of Spanish Airports, AENA, had organized some desks in which we could inform that our car was parked at the site of the bomb.
After we gave the vehicle’s data to the attendant at one of the desks, she made a copy of the ticket issued by the machine at the parking’s entrance, which indicated the day and hour of the car’s entrance to the parking. I also filled a report indicating that I had left the car parked on the second floor of the T4, as well as my contact data.
Once everything was registered, the attendant said that somebody would call me, when the cleaning job at the parking’s destroyed building was finished. The Government handled the resources of the so-called Consorcio de Compensacion, a fund fed by 1% of the premiums of all insurance policies paid in Spain, dedicated to indemnify those affected by terrorist’s attacks and Nature’s disasters, like flooding, wild-fires, etc.
The Spanish Government had already said that the Consorcio would pay for all repairs, as well as for all vehicles destroyed by the explosion. We just had to wait then. Three days later, I received a call from AENA, asking me to go to an address near the airport to recognize and inspect what remained of the vehicle.
I went to the address AENA had indicated, a giant parking lot near the airport. There, I saw the remains of at least 300 vehicles, almost all rests of metal burned and twisted. There were also about 20 cars under roofed parking, with various degrees of damage, among them, miraculously, our car.
Apart from a crushed roof, the windshield shattered and the driver’s window’s glass broken, the car started and seemed to be in good condition, that was what I indicated in the report that I wrote and delivered to the attendant there.
I was told to look for a repair shop and authorize it to withdraw the car from that site, that the Consorcio would take care of all the expenses. I found a repair shop recommended by a friend and asked the shop’s owner to include everything in the budget to be sent to the Consorcio, even the minimal scratch; giving him a letter authorizing the shop’s employees, to withdraw the car from those parking facilities.
Two weeks later, I received the car, which looked very well. Following my instructions, the repair shop’s owner had presented a comprehensive budget to the Consorcio, so up to the minimal detail was repaired. Even the front engine’s grill, which I didn’t recall damaged, had been replaced, looking new and shiny now.
The maintenance of the car, according to its manufacturer was also done, so we didn’t have to spend any money in the car for some time.
