Me, my brother-in-law and a colleague at the Star had long decided we would make the Bank Holiday pilgrimage on the train to be among the estimated million or so to revel in Liverpool's Premier League title triumph.
It was a glorious day. It rained incessantly but nobody really cared. Reds fans had been denied a title celebration by coronavirus in 2020 so there was no letting the rain dampen the parade this time. I was not born for the title before that.
Little did we know the day would descend into terrifying chaos.
Scenes of celebration shortly before the city centre descended into chaos. Pic: Lewis Cox
Scenes of celebration shortly before the city centre descended into chaos. Pic: Lewis Cox
Anybody who has been to a parade of relative scale will know it can be a waiting game. There is a lot of standing around. I went to a similar event in Liverpool three years previously. This was significantly bigger. Hundreds if not more scaled scaffolding near us for a vantage point, which felt like it could have gone wrong at any second.
Our heroes finally rode past on The Strand - the long finale point near the famous docks - at roughly 20 to six and at this stage we opted against another beer and food and to disperse for the train. There were many hundreds of thousands, perhaps more, shuffling away and we were slightly wary of squeezing on to a train, it was bad enough on the way up.
The scene as fans waited for the bus parade. Hundreds, if not more, clambered up scaffolding. Pic: Lewis Cox
The scene as fans waited for the bus parade. Hundreds, if not more, clambered up scaffolding. Pic: Lewis Cox
After shuffling slowly back through the city packed like sardines, we first thought something was up at the foot of the steps for Liverpool Lime Street railway station. The doors were seemingly shut and queues were already several rows deep. We knew there were around four trains we could possibly make, so not too much concern.
But after 10 or 15 minutes, initial reports from locals came through on social media about an incident on Dale Street. Things were scant as there were so many people around, phone signal was poor.
Then we saw - as many of you will have - harrowing online footage of a car ploughing through pedestrians. It was sickening and heart-breaking.
We then realised, terrifyingly, the incident - which was actually on Water Street - happened on the adjacent road to Brunswick Street, which we squeezed down barely minutes earlier. We had walked up and down Water Street a couple of times throughout the day.
Thinking back, as we squeezed past waiting fire engines and ambulances, we witnessed the moment emergency services were informed and urgency set in.
Anyway, the handling of things from Lime Street was pretty poor. There was no information being passed to several thousands and things could have turned dangerous. People were upset before news really spread. Obviously, at the time, authorities felt they could have been dealing with a live terror and security incident, so things were locked down.
Confusion spread and a pin went in the atmosphere. Immediately after the parade the party had continued. Supporters bouncing and chanting gleefully, revellers spilling out of bars and eateries. But this all changed.
We feared a struggle to get home. Buses were hopeless and the station rammed. Mercifully, my colleague's dad was able to drive north to collect us somewhere more accessible so we walked a few miles towards Anfield, the club's stadium.
We were one of many thousands trying to get away from a chaotic, gridlocked, panicked and confused city centre. The sound of sirens filled the air for much of it, with ambulances whizzing by.
As we walked clear more footage and reports emerged and we realised the severity of what happened. We answered countless messages and told loved ones we were safe.
A mix of anger and a huge sense of sombre set in all around us. How? Why? Prayers there would not be fatalities. There was a mix of everybody in the city that day, children, elderly, toddlers in pushchairs, all walks of life.
Why was a car there at that point? The odd car was still around during the day, when they should not have been. Millions had been expected for this parade. So why? Why were cars still allowed on part of The Strand until 11am? The whole centre's roads should have been closed off.
Anyway, we got collected around 9pm from near Anfield. The feeling of celebration a very distant memory. Dozens if not more around us, miles from the centre and some a long way from home, tried to make last-minute plans but were stranded. We got home to news via a late press conference of no fatalities. A terrible, terrible scene could have been far worse.
I felt fortunate just to have been home. Even now the feeling is deeply unpleasant and I'm not sure how I feel about attending such an event again.