Fire In The Hole

The Fourth of July weekend is upon us. Even though the actual Fourth isn't until Tuesday, the festivities are starting, and by festivities, I mean people setting off fireworks. Every night for the past week, the sounds of explosions have ripped the night air. I would imagine that on some level this is what it sounds like in a war zone, only without all the pesky death and destruction. We have even seen the night sky lit up with displays from mysterious locations.

I love fireworks. Even as a kid I would take any opportunity to sit and watch a fireworks display no matter how extensive or how lame it might be. When I was younger, I always longed to have access to the black market explosives that some of our neighbors were privy to. My parents, being both law abiding and chicken, never let us near any. We had to settle for sitting on a blanket and watching from a distance, all while getting malaria and blood- loss induced shock from the millions of mosquitoes that were feasting on us.

When "Wife" and I were first married, we lived in a town that bordered Indiana. That's not something I brag about, but during the early part of the Summer, it gave us unparalleled access to fireworks. Fireworks are legal in Indiana. You can probably come up with your own reasons why. We would cross the border under cover of darkness and bring back our illegal stash via some circuitous route, sticking to back roads and trails like modern day moonshiners. Technically we were breaking the law, but if you've ever been to a border town, you know they are fairly lawless. As long as you didn't shoot a bottle rocket directly at a police car, or drop a gross of M-80's into your neighbor's sweet above ground pool, you were OK. I took a perverse thrill in shooting off wild aerial displays that until then I had only dreamed of. I also found out that pyromania was a long hidden submissive gene that ran throughout the family. Suddenly every one I knew wanted to blow things up. I will confess to being a stickler for safety and security. There were always a couple buckets of water handy. I don't know how much they would have helped. Maybe it would have been a convenient place to put your bloody stump until the paramedics arrived.

Every year, I look forward to the inevitable news coverage of some backwoods fireworks factory/storage facility exploding. If you've ever been to a roadside fireworks stand, you know that quality control may not be at the top of everyone's list. I know most good explosives are made in China, but nothing says American independence like buying home made explosives from some three fingered ex-carny and his pregnant old lady while his blind, rabid, dog and seven kids look on. The owners of these factory/store house always seem surprised at the carnage. Hey Cletus, maybe that Lucky Strike dangling between your tooth- less gums has something to do with it.

I don't want to sound like your dad, but have a safe holiday. Remember pour water on all your duds before picking them up and chasing your nephew with them. I gotta go. It's time for me to practice all my "Ooohs" and "Aaahs" for the big night. Have a great, trauma free weekend. Later....Brian