Keith did not want to spend the 4th of July watching fireworks, or fighting crowds, or attending social events. He's been wincing dramatically whenever someone shoots off a firework in the neighborhood.
What a pooper, I thought. I dragged him to a barbeque and we had a good time drinking wine and eating roast beef from the grill and fending off the host's hungry dog. There were giddy children running and screaming on the lawn in varying degrees of nakedness. There was lots of alcohol and other substances and blueberry cream cheese tart. It was a loud, drunken good time.
Then we headed over to the house of some friends of our friends who lived near a park where you could allegedly watch the fireworks in the city while setting off your own all at the same time.
We arrived at the friend's house and embarked on the short walk to the allegedly close park. Keith (I hate fireworks) Feigin rips open Tyler's backpack and pulls out some fireworks. He starts lighting them in front of people's homes as we walk through the neighborhood. He and Tyler stop and help some kids light off fireworks.
Tyler says he knows a shortcut to the park and he leads us to a locked gate with a barbed wire fence beyond it and what looks like trailors beyond that. "It's the only way to get in" he says. He hops the fence with his backpack full of fireworks and heads off and out of sight. The rest of us look at each other. I look down at my skirt and my flimsy sandals. There's gotta be a better way. Its a park. Parks have many entrances. We'll walk up the block and meet up with him in the park.
Half of us decide to follow Tyler and half of us decide to find an entrance without barbed wire, prefferably with steps of some sort.
Apparently, this park is not a big fan of letting people access it because we couldnt find an entrance. Tyler kept calling Keith, all pissed off, and we kept walking and walking, looking for a way to get in. Keep in mind, I had
run 5 miles in the morning and was wearing my flimsy sandals that enjoy cutting into my feet and making them bleed if I walk more than a mile in them.
We walked and walked and walked and finally found a way in. The rest of our party was nowhere to be seen, however, and, several angry phone calls later, we figured out that they were way up at the top of the hill, above a hill of blackberry bushes. So, up we go, scrambling through blackberry bushes. We fall, exhausted onto the ground near our friends, just in time to watch the downtown display.
Its crouded, there are fireworks downtown, and fireworks being lit on the ground on the hill. The air is full of screaming children and screaming smoke bombs. The Shock and Awe sensory overload was too much for me and my bruised feet. My legs are in that jerky kind of pain where they can't sit still. Keith was having the time of his life lighting off fireworks.
It wasnt that bad, we enjoyed the show and then limped back home. But I think next year I will be the pooper who wants to stay home.
