I've been trying to get to posting this for 2 days now, so it might seem a little johnny-come-lately.
I was there when the building housing Boodles blew up. If I had left the house just 1 minute later than I did, I would have been right behind the building when it exploded. As it happened, I was 2 blocks away, waiting to cross Main Street on Wilson. I was idling behind a white truck at the intersection waiting for the light when I heard a 'whoomp-boom' kinda sound. My truck shook like hell, and it weighs about 4 and a half tons. The first thought going through my head was a remembrance of growing up in the Bitterroot, along the flight path of the SR-71s, and the massive sonic booms there that would break windows. I got rolled by a horse once because of those (didn't even break a bone, but I just don't suggest ever having that happen to you.) It probably only took a fraction of a second to dismiss that possibility. My next thought was that someone had hit my truck from behind. I couldn't see anyone there, but given the heavy snowfall and the 6 inches on the bedcover I could have missed a small car coming from behind. So, I opened the truck door and leaned out looking for someone behind me, fighting the seat belt as I did. There was nobody there that I could see.
I had been watching a person waiting on the other side of Main as this pedestrian was agitatedly waiting to cross at the signal light. When the shake happened, they fell backwards on their butt. I remember thinking 'that must have hurt'. Within milliseconds thoughts of my own situation took hold. Having dismissed the thought of being rear-ended, I began to think that someone had thrown a huge snowball down on the truck, but that made no sense. Another person, having come up to the pedestrian on the other side of the street, helped them up, and they both began pointing towards the East. Please notice, all of this took place within a half a minute. Then the waiting started. That seemed like half an hour, though it was probably only another half a minute.
The light changed, and we started moving forward. But the people coming from both sides slowed and stopped in the middle of the intersection. Those coming from the South suddenly changed their turn signals from going East to going West. The truck ahead of me slowed to stopping, and then sped on through the intersection. I stopped to let a white car turning west in front of me through the intersection and then pulled forward into Main Street. I couldn't help but slow to a crawl as I looked in the direction that the pedestrians were pointing. 2 blocks away was a massive brown cloud, the color of dirty buckskin, rolling down the street towards us. There were a few people on the sidewalks, mostly just standing and pointing, but a few were running towards us and a very few running towards the plume. There were objects flying about, but I had no idea what they were. I couldn't really take the time to process what was happening as yet.
As I pulled through the street towards work, I did notice that other drivers were being remarkably polite, allowing people to turn in front of them against the flow of traffic and acting in ways that were remarkably helpful. That, more than anything, let me know that something major had just happened. And in an instant, I knew with clarity that they were as remarkably confused as I was but were behaving well. That part of human spirit alone will live with me until I die.
I was anxious, no, rather desperate to get to work at that point. I knew that the guys in our Receiving department would have the radio on. But I can't even begin to describe how awful the streets were at that point. 'Slick as snot' just doesn't convey the danger. About 3 blocks South of Main, an older man ran out into the street right in front of me. He didn't look right at the time, and I screamed many profanities at him as I tried to stop the truck. I turned into the curb, and almost went sideways into the traffic. I was able to stop well before hitting him, and I realize now that he was probably vastly more panicked than I was.
From the time of the explosion until I was able to make it to the University, park the truck, and make my way into the store was about 15 minutes. As I stomped into the receiving area, the first words out of my mouth were "What the fuck just happened"? On the radio, they didn't know what blew up, but they were already saying that something downtown had gone boom. I'd like to say that that calmed me down, but it didn't. From the time I'd almost hit the old guy until we knew that it was likely a gas explosion, what was going through my mind was that some militia asshole, or disgruntled Bozemanite, had deliberately blown up the new city offices. I was equal parts pissed-off and scared, and definitely running on a serious adrenaline burn. Almost right after I got to work, we had a long meeting and then a long day. I was able to talk to my beloved (we live on the East side of town) and make sure that she was okay about 12:30. Probably more important was that she was able to make sure that I was okay. That night, after spending many hours on the phone with friends and family, the adrenaline burn gave way, and I crashed ... hard.
I'm not writing this as a serious addition to the news of what happened. Others have done a vastly better job of documentation then I could have done. I write this only such that my tale be told in the record of that awful Thursday morning.
I want to state again what I have stated elsewhere. I am terribly proud of those who responded to this tragedy with effort and aplomb. The Fire Fighters of Gallatin county, City Fire Unit One, Governor Schweitzer, and the entirety of the city administration. You did us right, and made us proud. I also want to thank the bloggers who paid heed to this event: The good folks over at 4 & 20 Blackbirds and especially the commenter Goof, the notorious Mark T. and his commenter Bob, and Jay at Left in the West.
We done okay, Bozeman, and we will get through this.