Of Fireworks

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Fireworks are a tradition in many cultures during celebrations and festivals. America is no different on Independence Day. Most people love fireworks. They leave early to get good seats, they spend a ton of money on buying their own, and they ooo and ahhh at the night sky as it fills up with sparkling blues, pinks, greens, and gold. Sometimes those that buy their own are too eager to wait for the sun to go down so they pointlessly light a few fireworks in the daylight just to feel the thrill of the BOOM!

Personally I don’t like fireworks. I love fire: campfires, candles, burning paper for no apparent reason, playing in wax and making a scented ball. But fireworks, ugh, they’re too loud and too bright. The reason why I hate them is why 99% of the population loves them. I sit there with my ears plugged throughout the show waiting for it to end, bored and annoyed by the bright balls of colorful fire in the sky.

When I was little I used to yell out the colors as they made their splash against the stars. It was a fun game, and if you try it (which you should) I guarantee eventually you’ll get your colors all mixed up. You’ll start calling green as gold, blue as pink, or white as red. It’s very entertaining. I don’t know when I became a firework hater, but as I got older I simply lost interest. Unless there are sparklers around, I could play with those for hours.

Tonight I won’t be forced to go to a firework show, as I usually am, because I agreed to take someone’s closing shift. Woo hoo! I’m pretty thrilled about this. I love America and wish it a very happy birthday. But I will not have to sit on the floor, squinting my eyes, with my ears plugged this year.

And for that I am very grateful.

Happy 4th everybody!

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