As I lay in bed, realizing how it must have been to try to sleep in Beirut in the 80's, I can't help but think of the mentality that abounds in this day and age. I've said it before: Humans have this serious mental deficiency that causes them to be attracted to things that are dangerous. In nature, bright colors say "hands off!", and every animal or insect understands this, says 'okay' and gets on about its business. Humans are attracted to bright, colorful things like, dare I mention, the average moth and its apparent sexual attraction to fire.
Of course, my topic tonight is fireworks.
This is a perilous time for most adventure-loving, non-instruction reading humans, because there is no shortage of excuses for igniting customized pyrotechnic devices. Canada Day has come and gone, the counterpart to the American Independence Day, which not only provides for five (yes, five) days of filled trauma units and burn wards, but gave Bill Pullman the chance to play in a fighter jet and quote Dylan Thomas. Amid all the excitement of the holiday, which is magnified by the fact that it makes a three-day weekend, AND is accompanied by the generous ingestion of alcoholic substances, the simple phrase 'light fuse and get away' becomes more of a personal challenge than friendly advice.
Fireworks aficionados fall into three groups: Professionals, Hobbyists, and Organ Donors. Professionals are highly skilled, well trained, and well paid individuals who operate large public displays with expert precision, though still manage to set themselves on fire from time to time. Hobbyists, quite unlike the name suggests, are no more than the occasional user of pyrotechnics, but tend to view safety as their primary concern. These are the people you see lighting their fuses with propane torches, who always keep a bucket of water nearby for the children's sparklers, and usually cause a rather alarmingly high number of grassfires. Both experience danger to varying degrees but, thanks to the different levels of experience, mistakes made by both are usually rectified with a healthy fire extinguisher.
I find myself surrounded by Organ Donors. These are the select portion of society who truly believe in the idea, "Celebrate the birth of your nation by blowing up a small part of it". These are the people who enclose firecrackers in jars, just to see what's going to happen; the people who bury M-80s just to see how large a crater they can make. These are the same people I observed one summer, launching bottle rockets from their hands, only to have one double back and fly through the open window of their van, setting the upholstery on fire. The same people who live down the street from me, who think it's a pretty great idea to accompany their nightly bombardment of yard and street with several rounds of gunfire from numerous types of firearms.
So, as usual, I'll spend my Fourth of July at home, diligently protecting my tiny piece of suburbia from the hail of 'friendly fire' that seeks to set alight my drought-stricken lawn. I will listen for the silences, as I am ensconced in now, which are usually followed shortly after by the wail of ambulance sirens.
. . .Yep, there they are, now.
Sounds like the neighbors gave two thumbs up for this year's fireworks display. Literally.
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