Opinion: Arena evacuated after explosion

Our amazing night was drawing to a close; Ariana Grande had given an astounding performance. In our cheer, my friend and I had started to leave our seats, on the top floor, almost at the very back. 

A loud boom. It came from the opposite exit, down on the lower floor…everyone stopped, and faced towards it.

There was a consensual moment of hesitation… in that moment, I had two thoughts: was that a bomb?…Is anyone hurt? The questions were broken by the sound of girls screaming and a wave of hundreds of people running away from the exit.

Capacity was 21,000. The stadium was almost full.

The tones of panic hit our side too, albeit with a lower pitch and volume, along with a fearful urgency to reach the exit and just get out.

I was shaking, but heard myself telling my friend, it was probably an electrical issue, equipment had fallen from the frame, a balloon popping on the mic… we grabbed each other’s hands and she directed me. People theorised as we approached the fire exit, when an announcement was made, instructing us to remain calm and head for an exit.

We [on our side of the arena] consciously chose to remain as rational and calm as we could, unanimously, it seemed, and sauntered down the fire exit stairs convincing each other, it couldn’t have been a bomb and we had no reason to feel afraid.

It wasn’t until we reached the corridor on the main floor, we saw smoke, and smelt burning plastic. However, the staff who were truly professional and calm yet assertive, ushered us out of the door, not answering anyone’s questions.

As we stepped onto the street, the building fire alarm started. Sirens filled the streetscape. There were people lying on the ground being helped up, people screaming, crying, children and mothers were hugging, security staff paced with 8 and 9-year-olds, searching for parents. However, none of us still really knew what had happened. Police urged us to move as far away from the building as possible.

We headed towards Victoria train station, the Metrolink and Shudehill Bus Station, and found transport had been shut down.

People outside Victoria Station were phoning home to explain they were stranded while couples comforted each other. The tannoy played a recorded message, instructing people to head for the nearest exit.

Police ran into Victoria, in pursuit of someone, it appeared. On reflection, none were armed or in riot gear or protective clothing to disarm a bomb.

I was confused as there did not appear to be any ambulances or fire service, nor any bomb disposal vehicle.

Many of us waited, impatiently at the bus station, complaining about the inconvenience to those who had been stranded, and low power on our phones, in denial of the severity of what might have occurred.

People went online hoping to find out what that resounding thunder had been. It was then, we saw updates

on Twitter: images of the devastation in the box office.

One young woman burst into tears. The rest of us looked at each other stood in silence.

Around the corner, the emergency services had closed access to the site of the tragedy. 30 or more vehicles shielding us from the horror we later heard on the news.

“We have to get out of here.” She said through her tears.

Her friend calmly replied: “At least we got out.”

He was right. Had we all stood up a few minutes earlier, to head to our trains, the box office area would have been flooded with people. Had Ariana not stayed on that few minutes longer, the lives ended would have reached the hundreds.

The 22 lives who left us on Monday night, were just people about to head home. The 100 or more injured, just normal, ordinary people, on their way home.

This is not how their nights should have ended.