Fireworks: the mysterious joy of sudden, loud noises and lights
The world and I just can't seem to get on the same page about fireworks.
Last night I ended up getting in bed around 11:30. A far cry from the days when my New Year's Eve memories were pieced together by looking through my cell phone call log the next day, a sinus infection and general sleep deprivation left me yearning for the comfort of my bed well before midnight.
Just as I was dozing off into some much-needed sleep, a POP!POP!POP! startled me awake. I put the pillow over my head only to be awoken many more times by the sound of various people in the neighborhood shooting off fireworks. My neighbors with whom I share a back yard fence continued the festivities for about two hours. (On the bright side, it was an excellent opportunity to use the synergy of Zillow and the Reverse Address Lookup to finally find out their names and contact info.)
I thought the very definition of the 'burbs was that it's the coming together of people who want three-car garages and no noise after nine o'clock. I think my suburban brethren and I generally agree on this, but evidently an exception simply must be made for fireworks because they're so much fun.
I do not understand this. When I asked a neighbor through gritted teeth yesterday why the four shopping bags full of blackcats and bottle rockets he was holding were so integral to bringing in the new year, he said that seeing what happens, watching them light up and seeing what kind of noise they make, is a lot of fun.
Loud noises and lights are fun. Got it. This insight into fireworks culture could be dangerous. I can see myself next year, after a few glasses of eggnog, joining my fireworks-loving neighbors around midnight by hitting the panic button on my alarm system to activate the blaring siren, and flashing the porch light on and off, shouting, "Loud noises and lights are so great! How do y'all like that? Are we having fun yet? Hey, there goes the car alarm. Whoo-hoo, happy new year!"
I should end this with the caveat that I realize I'm in the minority here. Based on the percentage of people whom I respect who just love fireworks, the inability to wrap my mind around what's so great about the little noise-making devices is clearly a deficiency on my part. And probably reason #722 that I'd be better of living as a hermit in a cave somewhere. :)
Last night I ended up getting in bed around 11:30. A far cry from the days when my New Year's Eve memories were pieced together by looking through my cell phone call log the next day, a sinus infection and general sleep deprivation left me yearning for the comfort of my bed well before midnight.
Just as I was dozing off into some much-needed sleep, a POP!POP!POP! startled me awake. I put the pillow over my head only to be awoken many more times by the sound of various people in the neighborhood shooting off fireworks. My neighbors with whom I share a back yard fence continued the festivities for about two hours. (On the bright side, it was an excellent opportunity to use the synergy of Zillow and the Reverse Address Lookup to finally find out their names and contact info.)
I thought the very definition of the 'burbs was that it's the coming together of people who want three-car garages and no noise after nine o'clock. I think my suburban brethren and I generally agree on this, but evidently an exception simply must be made for fireworks because they're so much fun.
I do not understand this. When I asked a neighbor through gritted teeth yesterday why the four shopping bags full of blackcats and bottle rockets he was holding were so integral to bringing in the new year, he said that seeing what happens, watching them light up and seeing what kind of noise they make, is a lot of fun.
Loud noises and lights are fun. Got it. This insight into fireworks culture could be dangerous. I can see myself next year, after a few glasses of eggnog, joining my fireworks-loving neighbors around midnight by hitting the panic button on my alarm system to activate the blaring siren, and flashing the porch light on and off, shouting, "Loud noises and lights are so great! How do y'all like that? Are we having fun yet? Hey, there goes the car alarm. Whoo-hoo, happy new year!"
I should end this with the caveat that I realize I'm in the minority here. Based on the percentage of people whom I respect who just love fireworks, the inability to wrap my mind around what's so great about the little noise-making devices is clearly a deficiency on my part. And probably reason #722 that I'd be better of living as a hermit in a cave somewhere. :)
3 Comments:
I am so with you on this Jen. My one year old was absolutely terrified as all the fireworks went off around us. It sounded like a war zone. Of course I am lucky enough to live just outside of Austin city limits and have 3, yes 3, fireworks stands near my house.
Why can't people leave the fireworks to the professionals? I had to yell at my friend's neighbor for (1) throwing fireworks into the fire we were sitting around--and yes, my new coat got singed but thankfully no other damage--and (2) doing so in front of the middle-school aged sons of 2 other friends. I was furious!
BTW I'm a habitual lurker on your other blog and was thrilled to see your Suburban CEO site get a mention in the January Reader's Digest. Congrats! I'm not married or a mom yet so for now I'm just taking notes and pointing it out to my sister-in-law.
I also don't understand the appeal of fireworks. I have asked for people to explain it to me with no real progress on the subject. So, I'm in the minority with you on this one!
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