I ran, I pushed, I yelled, and yet I still failed to get the highly demanded front of the bus, but I came close with a comfortable seat in the third row. Subconsciously my eyes examined each person as they entered the bus, trying to see if anyone looked suspicious.

The first half of my senior year of high school was a particularly stressful time, touring different colleges and universities, and deciding which fine institution I would be spending my college years. My quest to find a school abroad for my junior year of college was stressful for a few other reasons as well. Primarily: I wasn’t in the mood to get blown up by terrorists.

The bus driver is the most likely person to survive suicide bombings on buses, as well as the people sitting closest to him or her, and despite the fact that this was an express bus, making only a few stops in Ashdod and none in Jerusalem, I was still a bit nervous. Maybe it was because there have been dozens and dozens of suicide bombings over the past two years. Maybe it was because there are huge terrorist groups in the Palestinian territories, committed to murdering as many civilians as possible, with the goal of destroying Israel, that are continually praised as martyrs by Arafat. Perhaps it was because I was nervous about my interview in the University of Jerusalem, but for some odd reason I was tense.

Hebrew University, a campus of 20 thousand all constructed of Jerusalem stone and built on Mt. Scopus, overlooks much of Jerusalem, including the old city. Surrounded by a stone wall and a metal fence, security guards armed with guns and metal detectors protect every entrance. People all over the world come to study there, from India and China, to the United States and Europe. The school also takes pride that it has a diverse body of Palestinians and Israeli students and employees.

I toured the magnificent campus in my t-shirt and shorts in mid-January, and entered the admissions building. This building made UMass look organized, with no one having any idea where they were, how they got there, and what was going on. The 11 a.m. daily campus tours that were promised to me by the University ended up being as mythical as our dining commons claim that they serve “food”.

As I entered the Overseas Building, and eventually found a less confused person in the bureaucracy, I started to calm down and breathe. The woman looked up from her desk, informed me that she was quite sorry and if this was important for me then I could just return next week. (I guess I could just miss the first week of UMass, no problem).

After a little while of touring the impressive campus I stumbled across the cafeteria. I settled down at an empty table by the register, and stared at the food in awe. Delicious chicken cutlets, exotic salads, scrumptious potatoes, a chocolaty desert, and a bottle of mango juice totaled but only a few dollars. After a few bites, I looked up at the quiet cafeteria. An armed security guard stood outside checking everyone’s backpacks and clothing with a metal detector. Students were busily cramming for their exams, chatting in between in English and Hebrew.

It was the end of July, at around one in the afternoon, when a bomb exploded in this very cafeteria, killing seven students and teachers, and injuring many more. Two of those injured died within two weeks in the hospital. Among those who died was Janis Coulter, a UMass graduate. The bomb was packed with rusty nails as usual to help inflict more damage. This cafeteria served as a meeting point or hangout spot for hundreds of students, not that different from the Bluewall at UMass. For some reason I was unable to eat anymore. It wasn’t the food, which makes UMass food look like hay, but rather that the more than 600 Palestinian terror incidents that have occurred over the past two years were no longer but mere statistics in my head.

These students are just like you and I, struggling to get a good education so that they can get a decent paying job. As I looked into the cafeteria and thought about those who worked so hard to get to that point of studying in a well known University, and just lost everything because some sick people were obsessed with murdering as many people as possible to achieve their overall goal of destroying Israel, and as I thought of the teachers who had dedicated so much of their time to help students learn and understand, I lost my appetite.

I’d love there to be peace, as that is the only way that both Palestinians and Israelis can live together, but how can you negotiate with leaders who see the murdering of college students and civilians in general as an acceptable negotiating tool?

My food was tossed into the garbage bin and my self-guided tour came to an end, but I got a front seat on the bus.

Information from the Hebrew University Web Site and Foreign Ministry of Israel was used in this column.

Gilad Skolnick is a Collegian Columnist.