I decided to fly to Chicago from Louisville Kentucky on Friday night after the music camp.. Kentucky was a bit much – after a few nasty run ins with “Biscuits & Gravy” and unpleasantly watery “Sweet Tea” which was as close as I can imagine to drinking an old person’s bath water, I had to get out to the Windy City to see what this Fourth of July palava is all about.
And the vision I beheld flying over lake Michigan at 9:30pm was something pretty special! The city stretched out in golden veins twinkling across highway and suburban streets.. and every few seconds or so flashes would ripple across the vista – upon closer inspection and a we flew lower I saw the detail and colour of the fireworks – most looking like instant palm trees growing upwards in red, green, white and blue. Amazing, peaceful and exciting.
However upon getting to Tim’s house I walked into a war zone.
Though fireworks are illegal in Illinois, this does not stop every man, child, dog and itinerant letting off colourful explosives of every shape size and safety level in all residential streets, yards and car parks. Crackers were going off like pistols and fireworks shook the windows every 30 seconds. I thought i was going to die. Especially when after a beer and a chilli dog, Chicago Tim dragged me outside to the backstreet with a flashlight, brown paper bag and cigarette lighter to let of his own fireworks – which were, he happily informed me, left overs from last 4th of July – making them a year old (he had not considered the fact that perhaps after a YEAR cheap chinese fireworks may become not just unsafe, but entirely deadly).
Flashes of the first scene from the movie Arlington Road came to mind – and as I bunkered down behind 6 plastic wheelie bins in the laneway I pondered how many children were blowing off their hands and fingers around the country.
Chicago Tim (aka. Tim the 5 String Electric Bass Player) had lots of little cracker bomb things.. which you are supposed to light and put on the ground, but which are apparently more ‘fun’ when you light them, wait for the fuse to almost completely disappear then throw in the air. The male brain confuses me.
A penis measuring rocket competition erupted between a rotund couple who set up their blast zone about 30 metres away from Chicago Tim (and me, still hiding behind plastic bins). The couple had some serious hardwear, massive fireworks which shot miles into the air with an enormous whoosh and sprinkled the sky with reeling colourful sprites as my retinas burned and my ears bled.
Tim let off his ‘big gun’ – which had the encouraging phrase stamped on the side “Warning – Explosive Balls” and was as long as my arm. It was quite impressive .. but not to be outdone the couple across the road let off a volley of even BIGGER rockets – one narrowly missing the mans head, not that he seemed too concerned. Kindly I told Tim he’d lost out and was obviously the lesser man. So he lit some small rocket trucks (fire on wheels) and attempted to set a tree on fire for comfort.
