4th of July
So I was cleaning out my overflowing drafts folder in Gmail today and found this funny bit I wrote about 4th of July in Arcadia. I have no idea to whom I intended to send this, so I guess you all get to read it. You can tell I was getting a little twitchy from all the fireworks fumes...
----
See, around here, people start celebrating as soon as the tents go up - the big white fireworks tents in the Winn-Dixie and Sav-a-Lot parking lots. Everybody and their brother and their half-cousin buys fireworks, lots of them, and they start setting them off before it's even July. Every night from around June 25 through the 3rd is peppered with occasional blasts from bottle rockets, firecrackers, shells, wolf packs, and god knows what else those people have purchased and lit on fire in their driveways.
The 4th, though - that's where it's really at. I started my day at the rodeo grounds. I biked up early in the morning to see if there were any cool photographs to be had, but alas, the photogenic elements of the rodeo (cowboys, bulls, horses) had yet to arrive. So instead I went to the rodeo parade. As someone who grew up watching parades through downtown, stationed in front of my dad's office, crouched on the curb ready to leap ferociously at any and all candies tossed from the floats, it's a little strange to attend one again at this age. It's local election time, so everyone was out: the mayor, school board candidates, and the big daddies - the county commissioners. Each float was a competition to see who could marshall the most small adorable children to sit and wave American flags for their candidate. The folks not up for re-election instead rode in 'gators (all-purpose ranch vehicles). Since it's the rodeo parade, it actually starts off with a mock shootout, complete with cowboys and floozies. Once the parade kicks off, floats are alternated with horseback riders, some of whom decorate their mounts with ribbons, glitter, and, of course, camoflauge hats.
Then I did some uninteresting things, like falling asleep while reading my book (Jared Diamond, Collapse, it's very good but depressing as hell) and swimming for a while and rotating in the sun, rotisserie style, for a little while in a lounge chair.
After dinner we went out to watch the fireworks. Now, there were PLENTY of fireworks to be seen from my own home. Once night falls on July 4, all bets are off for peace and quiet in the evening - it is a constant continuous non-stop cacophony of bangs, hisses, sparkles, whistles, and general LOUD NOISE CONTINUOUSLY FOR HOURS. I'm not exaggerating. This goes on, non-stop, for HOURS. Behind me RIGHT NOW are incessant booms and bangs from fireworks around town.
But anyway, we wanted to see the big town show, so off we went to the high school. They shoot 'em off in a big cow pasture by the school, so the whole town congregates here. There are far more people interested in seeing the show than there are parking spots, so we ended up 1/4 mile to the north at the community college. Turns out every road in all four directions was lined with vehicles. The vast majority of people around here, at least those who seem to come out for fireworks, drive trucks, so people got themselves SET UP with chairs and blankets and radios blaring in the beds of their trucks. I wanted a truck really bad at this point. Some people actually brought trailers so that they could fit all their kin on there, and one (large) family had a trailer and 3 picnic tables full right next to it. You would not believe how many people they fit into these cars. It's real popular to sit on top of your car if you have an SUV, the better to see, I guess. People fit like 6 or 8 bodies on the hoods and roofs of their cars, all clutching their disturbingly ubiquitous styrofoam tubs of sweet tea from the Amoco station.
SO the fireworks happened, yay, that was nice. At first we could not tell where they were happening because ALL THE YOKELS WERE SHOOTING THEIRS OFF TOO. Way to make the fun last, y'all. About this time a haze began to develop across the fields and road from all the firework smoke, and you could smell that familiar acrid scent from all directions. This is when the sirens started in, too. Literally about every five minutes we'd hear another ambulance, presumably to rush little Junior to the hospital, minus whatever appendage he lost when he lit that roman candle too clumsily. The cows started in too - they don't like the noise, obviously, so they just make some of their own - a disgruntled lowing in the distance.
I don't know what kinds of safety measures are typical in most towns, but here, well, things are pretty slack. They set 'em off in a field, like I said, and you can get within about 100 yards of the shooting area - there are loads and LOADS of people always packed right up to the fence, breathing buckets of fireworks smoke and whoopin' and hollerin' with every blast. Man oh man.
Well, that was my night. I ended it with some blueberry pie out sitting on the porch, listening to the WARZONE AROUND MY NEIGHBORHOOD and laughing at the snippets of neighborhood conversation I heard, mostly variations on a theme of: "Jarred! Get away from that thing!" "Yeeeeee Haaaaw!" and "Look out!"