Oh, so that's what it's like to get bombed.

So a B-1 bomber just flew over my place of employment. A bomber.

There I sat, merrily typing away. Typity-type-type. When suddenly the earth opened up, the sky began to scream, babies cried and a bomber roared just above Main Street. Because, you know, bombers regularly tear open the afternoon sky in small, Midwestern towns.

OK, seriously. That thing was loud. I've never seen so many people simultaneously leap to the window and crap their pants, while also ducking for cover.