I’m not a big fan of firecrackers. Never been one. A strange kid I was - I always worried that the someday some rogue firecracker would land in my ear and burst there. Gawd! The misery of having a vivid imagination.
Anyways – the promise of spectacular, jaw-dropping to the floor type of fireworks took us to the Charles riverbanks 4 hours before the designated time. The time was spent watching hordes of people munching on their snacks, guzzling buckets of beer and soda, and fooling around in wacky outfits. The impossibly cute kids were also spotted and they were really the saving grace. With no food, water or voluntary entertainment, and (er..ahem…filthy port-a-potty’s) time moved slowly. And miraculously with it my mood turned from my not so gentle “l’ll burn down everything” to “yeah, I’m enjoying myself”.
The fireworks, true to the promise, delivered. They were stupendous, out of this world and had me gaping at the whole burst of stars with an open mouth. The bestest I have ever seen.
So when a 4-day weekend came to an end, the fireworks ensured that I slept like a happy child. Not scared of office anymore. :)
