After tossing and turning and trying to get some sleep before my big day today, my alarm wakes me up around 4:40 a.m. (See, it's an old Wesclox, and I have it set 15 minutes fast, so you can never quite tell to the minute what time it's set for). I tried going back to sleep for another 20, but since Elliott wasn't having any of that, I got up, brushed my teeth, rubbed the pits, put some pants on, removed an icky spammer dick from Chez Broad (he's still there, though, and I don't know why, because I Blacklisted everything about him) and trounced out the door. Made record time and got there five minutes before we were supposed to caravan to the viewing sight, right? Only to be told that THE IMPLOSION PEOPLE WERE POSTPONING UNTIL 7:30 A.M.

Whimper.

So a bunch of the dudes from the USWA local plus a couple of free-lance cameraman, one of whom was a colleague up until Friday when he quit the competition (go Tasos! Like I said, you're going to love the life, man!), grabbed breakfast at a local dive and headed back, where we proceeded to drive up Dickey Road to Cline Avenue. Cline Avenue, for those not in the know, is a four-lane highway. Well, the Lake County Sheriff had his men block off the entrance ramps to Cline, and here we were, standing on a four-lane highway watching these gargantuan, majestic structures get imploded.

The whole thing? lasted four seconds.

And of COURSE Bubba's battery crapped out as the blast went off, but I got photos of the before and after. (See here.)

Way cool, but it didn't need to be at the buttcrack of dawn. That just ain't RIGHT.