My friends and I were at the marathon. We had plans to hang out by the finish line through the end of the race, but about 20 minutes before the first bomb went off, we decided to get out of the crush of people and go have a smoke--not cigarettes, so it took us awhile to find a place quiet enough. We were in Boston Common by the time the bombs went off.
Things were scary in Boston for a while after that. Lots of uncertainty, none of us really knew where was safe. We avoided the major roads (I later found out this was probably a good idea when a rumor came out about another undetonated bomb placed on Huntington Avenue) and kept a watch on the news on our phones. Seems like every emergency vehicle in Boston that wasn't already lining the perimeter of the marathon was making a beeline for the Back Bay. Lots of helicopters in the sky. I've also never seen so many unmarked vehicles with lights flashing and sirens blaring; seemed like all the Feds in Massachusetts came out of the woodwork. An old man walking by told me about a woman whose leg had been blown off right in front of him--he wasn't hurt, but I'm pretty sure he was in shock. He was way too calm.
It's been a few hours more than 24 and it seems like people everywhere here are all talking about one thing. Everyone's nervous, edgy, scared. No one seems to know what happened, and we're all angry at the media for blowing up the story with every rumor and leaving us to get lost in a torrent of inaccurate reports. I am personally particularly upset with the New York Times for sensationalizing the death count with a blatant lie shortly after the incident, when everyone was desperate for information. They told us twelve had died.
At this point everyone I know is praying in their respective ways -- for the perp(s) to be captured, for the injured to live, for the would-be copycats to reign in their crazy. For some sense to be made out of all of this.
Here's to closure.