When Fireworks Go Rogue

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Truth: I have never personally lit off a firework in my life (I don’t think). I was always forbidden to do it while growing up (not even one of those sparklers that you hold in your hands), and now that I’m grown, I’m just as content to let others do the dirty work (although I have since waved a sparkler or two in my time, just to clear that up).

Of course, the only time I personally had witnessed a firework being TOO dangerous was when one of my neighbors (when  he was a teenager) strapped together a bunch of those “flower” fireworks (those weak sauce little ghost-looking ones) and lit them in his hand. Well, long story short: the whole thing exploded before he had a chance to let go, and he had no eyebrows for a few months.

It was pretty hilarious.

But fast forward to the present—Thursday night, I was sitting there, content as you please, on my parents’ front porch, trying to take pictures of the local fireworks display put on by the neighbors. While I was fiddling with aperture and shutter speed and all those fancy-pants photography things, I noticed that the fountain firework (above picture, left) looked like it was tipping over.

And tip over it did (above picture, right). What I DIDN’T know was that this wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill fountain: this was a fountain with a finale of about 5 aerial fireworks as well.

The next 30 seconds were like my brain was moving through Jell-O—I saw an enormous beam come shooting towards the garage door (think Star Wars), where it ended in a loud explosion (not like Star Wars). Then, simultaneously fascinated and paralyzed, I watched as the fountain spun around 180 degrees and shot another beam into the neighbor’s carport, where it lit up the vehicles like a flash of lightning.

My legs finally decided to get smart, and I let out a yelp and scrambled up the porch and into the house, using the screen door as a shield as I watched the remaining blasts.

Luckily, no one was hurt.

And, when my heart had finally gotten over the fright (and I was safely ensconced in the house for the rest of the show like a sissy pants), I had to admit:

The whole thing made a pretty awesome story to tell Matt when he got back from watching that new zombie movie with his brothers (no, I could not be prevailed upon to go).

And now, prepare yourself for a huge Independence Day photo dump of my family and I up at Eaglewood golf course (where my hometown sponsors a huge fireworks show and live band each year), our breakfast with my extended family the actual morning of the 4th (where I discovered my mom makes balloon animals–I mean, seriously? Now I know my mom really CAN do everything), and finally, a couple pictures of our big barbecue with my in-laws.

Until next year, my favorite holiday ever!

 

 

 

Were you allowed to light fireworks as a kid? Any crazy fireworks stories from your own life?

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