Yeah, so the world is ending tomorrow, so I'll keep this brief.
When I was younger, my parents switched from the Calvinist church (20 miles away) they'd always attended, to the Baptist Church (just up the road.) The difference wasn't dramatic so much as it was complete, and I fell big time for the evangelical atmosphere. There was 100% less canon law and 100% more moved by the spirit. If you know anything about me, though, you know it didn't stick. But I digress.
Every time, seriously, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME I found myself alone, I was sure that the rapture had happened without me, and I was left behind. It was awful, every single time.
Harold Camping must be a very, very sad man.