After fear, delays, and confusion, expressions of outrage

John Reidy, a 68-year-old financial adviser, was walking down Beacon Street when he saw the vans go by, with darkened windows and the words "Bomb Squad" across the back.

Earlier in the day, he had caught snippets of something amiss on the news, but he had tried not to worry; like many people since the terrorist attacks of 2001, he has learned to take with a grain of salt reports of suspicious packages.

But now there were sirens wailing and helicopters were in the air. When the vans sped by with what seemed real urgency, he felt a wave of fear in his gut.

"It really affected me psychologically," he said.

Hours later, after learning that the objects that had mobilized law enforcement and snarled traffic and rail service were part of an underground marketing campaign for a television show, he unleashed a stream of fury.

"There was no way of realizing what a ridiculous scam this was," he said. "I am appalled. I can't believe they could do something quite so irresponsible and stupid like this. It was a really poorly thought-out marketing scheme."

As news slowly spread among residents, commuters, and downtown workers that the wired devices attached to bridges and other pieces of infrastructure around the city were actually battery-powered lights in the shape of cartoon characters, many who were caught in the drama expressed outrage.

Some said Turner Broadcasting should compensate the city for the cost of the massive law enforcement response and for the toll in personal worry and inconvenience.

During the day, as police investigated one unknown object after another, some said they reached for cellphones to call loved ones, while others glanced at maps to check the proximity of the devices being investigated by police to their homes or offices. For several hours, confusion was rampant.

"What . . . is going on here?" thought Adam Bastein, 26, when he saw CNN showing live shots of the Longfellow Bridge on his television screen. "No one seemed to know what was happening. They just kept reporting and reporting, but no one had any answers."

He and his friend delayed a trip to the New England Aquarium because the T wasn't running.

Traffic jams caused parents to be late picking children up from school. Some people canceled doctors' appointments because they were afraid to enter the city.

"It's scary. I had friends calling me up and tell me not to come in," said Donna Manca, 40, of Winchendon, a native New Yorker who immediately thought of Sept. 11, 2001. "This is Boston -- stuff like that shouldn't happen here."

She found out the suspicious objects were harmless and part of a marketing campaign only when informed by a reporter.

"That's awful," she said. "That's a terrible, terrible thing to do, especially in this day and age."

Around midafternoon, a group of police officers and bomb-sniffing dogs scoured City Hall. They went through council offices, staff hallways, and other spaces in the building.

Some frightened council aides grabbed their belongings and left the building.

"You have to be nervous," said Lynn Wilcott, 35, who works at Massachusetts General Hospital, which sent out an e-mail message last night to let its employees know everything was OK. "A package is a suspicious package, no matter how cute it is."

Some, though, have grown immune to alarming reports after Sept. 11, most of which have turned out to be harmless.

"It seems like there's stuff like this all the time," said Keely MacMillan, who commutes from Cambridge to work in the Financial District.

"It's scary," John McGuiggan said with a shrug, "but this kind of stuff is bound to happen."

"It's a hyperawareness," said Vijay Dhaka, 32, a student at MIT's Sloan School of Management. "People are still learning to deal with these things."

Matt Viser can be reached at maviser@globe.com.