Pyromaniacs are everywhere in July. And thus pyrophobics like me are in hiding. Folkmoot’s American team will be a Hawaiian family troupe that added fire to their knife-dancing repertoire when merely dodging enormous blades proved unsatisfying. Another upcoming event, the Asheville Americana Burlesque and Sideshow Festival, will feature fire dancers in the new-Vaudevillean vein. But at least that’s art. And I don’t have a problem with big, professional fireworks displays. What keeps me up at night (literally) are the average Joes and Janes popping off firecrackers in their backyards and, worse, on the local sidewalks and streets. Those spluttering, splatting “explosives” and more-ominous air-shattering bomb things always sound like they’re being released from the imperiled fingers of an addled man-child on the edge. A brief Internet search will reveal any number of horror stories telling of Beavis-and-Buttheaded troglodytes who attached their pets to M-1000s to watch fur fly. What more do you need to know? Maybe shooting off firecrackers is an unstoppable urge. But then, so is diarrhea.
Stick your M-1000 where it hurts
Melanie, are you comparing our God given right as Americans to engage in pyromania with diarrhea?
I was in a fireworks store in SC over the weekend. What struck me was the distinct look of glee on everyone’s faces as they raided the towering stacks of fireworks in this giant warehouse. Like kids in a candy store, they filled their carts with explosives decorated in fun, flashy packaging with names like “The Mobster – so loud, it’s criminal,” “The evil warlock,” “The big samurai,” etc. It was like a toy store for big people, except instead of a warning label about how small pieces can be a choking hazard for children, you get labels like “warning: shoots flaming balls with report. Light fuze and get away.” I can fully understand the fascination with loud, sparkly exploding things. But please, for anyone who’s planning a private fireworks show, just remember that we are in a severe drought. Dry brush and fireworks aren’t always the best combo. please be cautious!
I won’t be happy unless someone loses a finger.
Melanie,
I worked at a fireworks tent in Wisconsin one fourth of July season, you wouldn’t believe some of the characters we had come through there. It was a “safe and sane” tent, meaning that, by the law of the land, we couldn’t sell anything that left the ground or exploded. The locals just wouldn’t believe it, though, and every other customer would demand “The good stuff”, convinced that we were holding out on them, and that beneath the front desk we had a bunch of nail bombs or something. Jeez.
There were also lots of requests for “exploding Osama Bin Laden heads”, and then there were the two people who walked tight into the tent with lit cigarettes hanging from their mouths…
Yeah, I haven’t been much of a fireworks fan since.
Whoa! A little cranky, Melanie? Of all the things to fuss about, it’s surprising that fireworks rank so high on your list. Rather than be kept up at night this time of year, you might want to try a pair of ear plugs… they work wonders!