Down on the boat, things were somehow even worse. Families shrieked and clutched their loved ones as the brown deluge swamped the observation deck. "It's just water!" screamed the desperate tour guide, as much for herself as anyone. But it wasn't just water. It wasn't just water at all. And they all knew it. Tourists who had been chatting happily moments before clawed over each other to get to the boat's bathrooms, although efforts to rinse off in the tiny little sinks were doomed from the beginning. Others were seen leaning over the side to retch, as if the state of the boat itself could somehow get worse.Â
Fortunately for posterity, the entire incident was witnessed by Chicago Tribune reporter Brett McNeill, who was enjoying the boat tour when the antacid rain hit. According to McNeill, there was an initial moment of stunned silence before an old lady broke to spell by announcing "Oh God. I had my mouth open." People were observed squeezing handfuls of "gritty gunk from their sticky wet hair," while the tour guide wandered about in a daze, feebly asking "should we turn back?" as if anyone was going to wipe a clump of used toilet paper off their bifocals and say "no, let's keep hearing about architecture."
The decision was ultimately made by the boat's crew, who assessed the situation and immediately gunned the engines back to dock at such speed that smaller boats were observed fighting not to capsize in the wake. There are laws about boat speed on the river for exactly that reason, but nobody was going to enforce them in this situation. It would be like citing the Hindenburg for illegally parking in that field. We're actually lucky they didn't try to ramp the boat straight out of the water and through the nearest car wash. The speed certainly didn't bother the passengers, most of whom were apparently now belowdecks, trying to suck clean air out of the air conditioning vents.Â