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An hour and a half later, the queue hasn't budged. Few stewards in sight. No police. No announcements. No news about delays. No news about anything. People are fed up. The mood changes to anger.
Suddenly, the crowd at the far end breaks through the barriers and gallops for the buses. Now the crowd at the other end follows suit.
You and your son, along with thousands of others, are cut off, trapped inside a series of steel barriers. The crowd surges forward but there is nowhere to go. Where are the stewards? A group of them stands huddled together in a far field, as though this mess is now out of their hands.
Where are the police? Who's in charge here?
Someone unhooks a barrier and slips through. Others follow suit and now it's anarchy. People skip the queues. Barriers are pushed over.
Thousands dash for the buses. Some shout abuse at the few stewards who are still around. You struggle to keep your feet. You worry about your boy. Hold on tight. Keep your feet no matter what. Trip and fall, and you will get trampled.
That could easily have ended in tragedy.