Tonight was my first chance to see if all the hype surrounding the end of Riverbend fireworks display lived up to all the hype.

Before I answer that, let me just say that you Chattanoogans are fireworks crazy. I don't just mean that you are pyrotechnic connoisseurs. You're certainly that, but the mere anticipation of a display sets your mental gear shift to "go nuts," and you do so with abandon.

I had originally planned to watch the fireworks through my living room window, but I felt like it was my duty as a reporter covering the festival to witness the spectacle as intended at least once. Before doing so, I wanted to head to Wal-Mart for some end-of-festival snackage and then set off across the Veterans Bridge.

Those of you with any familiarity with this city's love for the display whatsoever are probably laughing out loud at my foolishness. A trip that normally takes about 10 minutes one way took about twice that long.

Imagine my surprise when I crested the hill at the top of Georgia Avenue to see a long line of cars seemingly stalled out with hazard lights blinking as if all struck simultaneously by a heinous plague cast down by the automobile gods.

I later found out that this was a kosher thing to do, but it limited traffic to just one lane and my patience to a short fuse.

Once into North Shore, the insanity hit a new high.

You're so in love with your fireworks that you'll rush across the street heedless of oncoming traffic (perhaps to see to your afflicted car on the bridge?) and just act in general like you're in the latter stages of full-on dementia.

After returning home (this time by the interstate) and putting the beer in the fridge, I headed down to the Veterans Bridge to take in the display and perhaps offer my admittedly meager mechanical skill to help out some of the "stranded" motorists.

A traffic officer sitting in a lawn chair guarding the exit off the bridge onto Riverfront Parkway told me about the whole "block off traffic and create mayhem" being OK bit and then seconded my opinion about your obsession with fireworks.

"Somebody mentions a firecracker and they all just go crazy," she said, to which I heartily agreed before crossing to the center of the bridge to watch.

At 10:51 p.m. Verizon Standard Time, the shebang started off with a well ... bang (I'm running out of verbiage here). For the next 19 minutes, the skies above the Scenic City put on a show the likes of which I haven't seen since growing up in Knoxville at Boomsday, that city's fireworks display every Labor Day.

In between the passing of a police car (or bike or gator) blaring its siren, the only sound was the chest-shaking boom of the explosives being launched from Renaissance Park. It was a wonderful experience.

So in short, for a very long blog, the display definitely met up to the hype. Granted, I only have no previous years to compare it to, but I still have sunspots in my eyes, my ears are ringing and I have a stupid grin on my face. That must mean it hit on the right levels.

I can think of worse ways to end my last day of work covering the festival. See you again next year.