Trapped in the Chaos: My Scariest Travel Experience

Traveling often opens doors to incredible experiences and unforgettable memories. However, amidst the excitement and adventure, there can also be moments of sheer terror. One such moment for me occurred during a trip to Rome for the canonization of Pope John Paul II, an event that turned frightening  as I found myself trapped in a crowd of people, fearing for my safety.

The anticipation leading up to the canonization was palpable. People  from around the world descended upon Rome, eager to witness the historic event. I, too, was filled with anticipation. The weather forecast was cold and rainy so the group I traveled with and I bought tarps from a local outdoor store. St. Peter's Square was cleared of people the day prior to the event, so we took our new camping gear and found a spot of grass to make a home base. Little did I know, the experience would soon take a harrowing turn.

People laughed and sang into the night, despite the poor weather. I remember I laid my head down to rest around 12:30 am when I started hearing yelling down by the street. As I emerged from my makeshift tent, I saw a stampede of people heading toward St. Peter’s Square. Many people in the group we were in decided that we came all the way from Michigan, so we should at least try to see the ceremony in person. We descended into the crowd of hundreds of thousands of people in the middle of the night, in hopes that in the morning, we would make it somewhere close enough to see. 

 I found myself surrounded by hundreds of  thousands of people, packed tightly together like sardines in a can. People were so close to me that every inch of my body was being touched and pushed (for hours). What began as a sense of camaraderie soon gave way to claustrophobia and panic as the crowd pressed in from all sides. With each passing moment, the situation grew increasingly dire. At about 9:00am, I had been awake for 27 hours straight–much of which were on my feet. I remember being unable to move or even raise my arms, because people were so close to each other. I felt a rising sense of panic gripping me. The crushing weight of bodies around me made it difficult to breathe, and the incredible urge to urinate added to the discomfort. Fear gnawed at the edges of my mind as I realized the precariousness of our situation. What if someone fell? What if a stampede ensued? The possibilities were too terrifying to contemplate.

Minutes stretched hours, and  hours into what felt like an eternity. I struggled to maintain composure, my heart racing with adrenaline. Sleep deprivation weighed on my emotions. Desperation clawed at me as I searched for any avenue of escape, but the crowd was an impenetrable wall of humanity. In that moment, I felt utterly powerless, at the mercy of forces beyond my control.

Suddenly a switch in my brain decided I had to get out of the crowd. NOW!!! People around me started calling for medics on my behalf. Within minutes, tiny medic nuns came powering through the crowd and dragged me and an acquaintance to a medic tent. Unfortunately, that is not the end of this mayhem, because we still had to get back to our home base tents, where some of our group stayed behind. 

We first attempted to cross through the crowd, but we didn't make it very far. People stood firm, like we were in a competition to get to the front (even though there was no way they would make it to the front). People yelled at us in many languages we didn't know, and we eventually had to make a new plan. We backtracked and attempted to loop around on a different street on a bridge. Once again we were met with more hostility, and people who did not want to let us through. People around us were getting thrown to the ground. I honestly thought we might die. There was a woman unapologetically pushing an empty wheelchair through the crowd and we tucked behind her, using her wake as protection to get across the bridge of people. People had to move or get rammed in the ankles with the metal wheelchair. 

Finally, we made it through and I was able to use the world’s most disgusting porta potty, before sleeping through the entire ceremony in our makeshift tent. People were able to watch the event live on large Televisions placed outside. I remember hearing someone say, “welp, that's what we came here for,” and I just rested, fully aware that I missed it, but thankful I survived it. 

As I continue to explore the world and seek out new adventures, I carry with me the lessons learned from that experience. And even though the religious elements of that journey no longer speak to me the way they did back then, I carry myself with confidence when I travel because of the lessons I learned my scariest travel experience to date.