Well, The Stardust is gone. Even though I watched the implosion in person, coming back in daylight and seeing it all destroyed, was uncomfortable.
Right after the implosion, the darkness of night, and ensuing debris cloud, made it seem as if The Stardust was still there. When the building dropped, the dust came on very thick. At that point the building could not have been seen, even it it was still standing.
Walking away there was still the point of reference, the vertical arms which had held the now-gone main sign. The sign arms and lower display section were partially visible as the cloud rolled across Las Vegas Boulevard. So except for the very moment of seeing the building drop, there was no moment to look over the site and allow the new visual impress of an open lot to set on my mind. To replace what my mind knows and expects. To confront the phantom perception.
The time right after the implosion was spent getting away, and getting air, and feeling dreamed out while walking through the oddball pseudo snowstorm of dust on a warm night, through darkness and white ground, and past neon lights softened by the haze. Just hours earlier I had walked those streets among great numbers of people. But after the implosion, and after a brief time spent getting air at a store, Las Vegas Boulevard had become rather desolate. Stragglers here and there. Everyone else had already found a place, whether it was their real destination or just nearby shelter.
It it is no wonder that when I returned the next day, in the light of afternoon, that I was uncomfortable at seeing clearly, what the clouds and action had obscurred when The Stardust was imploded.