Sunday, July 10, 2005

Another 4th, and no trip to the ER

When I was 14, I had to go the the Emergency Room on the 4th of July. It had nothing to do with fireworks, or any sort of interesting story at all (I fell off the top of the monkey bars at a playground and broke my arm), but I did hear a pretty good story while I was waiting for my x-rays to get back.

It turns out that the guy in the curtain next to me (the one with the boxing glove bandages on) had been trying to make something go boom. He had taken apart multiple fireworks and made a pile of black powder on a stump in his back yard the size of a small anthill. After fruitlessly throwing matches onto the pile from a distance (which I assure you doesn't work, I've tried it too), he decided that a lighter was what he needed.

And I think that you can tell where this story is going, and yes, it is third degree burns over 95% of his right and left hands.

But I couldn't help but feel for the guy, mostly because I'm a pyro just like him. Well, not just like him. I'm not stupid. I enjoy blowing up apples, empty two litre bottles, the occasional pineapple, and etcetera, but I don't enjoy lighting myself on fire.

The biggest problem with this is that the last three years, I've played at a frisbee tournament on the 4th of July, and one that doesn't allow fireworks of any sort. Which means that I haven't had the opportunity to employ my "skills" in about 4 years.

And I'm itching to burn things.

I think that I may have to plan a trip to go see my brother, who is also a pyro, and always ready to get into any sort of fire fight (roman candle wars, throwing black cats at each other, concocting elaborate bombs that make incredibly loud noises, etc). If I live through it, I'll try to get pictures and stories to share.

And if anyone knows how to turn ordinary fireworks into something extraordinary, please feel free to write me and let me in on the secret.


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