The Most Memorable 4th of July Ever

This is a story I’ve been meaning to put to paper… errr… type up… for a long, long time. It involves my most memorable 4th of July holiday. Let me preface by saying that there are a couple of holidays I generally don’t plan anything for: 4th of July and New Year’s Eve, most notably. When I was younger I’d always make big plans and have huge expectations for these holidays — then inevitably someone would crap out or the plan would go horribly awry — and I’d wind up disappointed and sad. The approach I’ve taken since then is to plan nothing. That way there are no expectations. If something comes up, then great! If not, then no big deal. The 4th of July holiday that turned out to be my most memorable was one of those for which I didn’t plan anything. See? It works.

Before I get into it though, I need to give you a little background. I have to jump back to the 4th of July the year prior. That year I got suckered into buying some raffle tickets for some something-or-other. I guess I can’t really say I was “suckered,” because I actually won a big prize. It was a massive cache of fireworks. The package stood about 4 feet tall, 3 feet wide, and included everything you can imagine. Keep in mind I was living in Alabama, so restrictions were fairly nonexistent. I think there were even a couple of sticks of dynamite in there. Unfortunately that year, I also got sick as a dog on Independence day, so didn’t do anything but stay in bed. I put the package of explosives in the back of my closet and promptly forgot about it.

So that brings us to the most memorable 4th of July ever. I think it was 1995. I’m bad with dates. I was living in Tuscaloosa and working at a radio station — in addition to my part time job at Blockbuster and playing in a band. I felt stretched pretty thin, so actually welcomed having the day off from everything to chill out and do nothing. Around 9:00 that night I was sitting on the couch, drinking some beer, when I got a call from my friend Adam. He was on his way to a party that was just a few blocks away, and wanted to know if I cared to go. I debated, because at least in those days, if you went out with Adam you had to be in it for the long haul. I think most of the sunrises I’ve seen in my life somehow involved drinking with him. But as always, my fear that I might miss something fun took over, and off we went.

We arrived at the party, and it was apparent it had been going on for a while. Most of the people (mostly college kids) were already pretty drunk. The host was a friend of Adam’s whose name I can’t remember. He had a decent-sized house, and the party was hoppin’ — excuse my obvious whiteness. People were in most every room, and there were even more folks surrounding a huge bonfire in the backyard. To help set the scene, you have to visualize the environment. As I said, this was a house, but it had apartment buildings on either side, as well as an apartment building directly behind it. When you got into the backyard, the 3-story buildings surrounding it made for a natural courtyard, and there was a fence separating the yard from the buildings. I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a crude diagram to illustrate. The black line represents the fence.

I was hanging out in the backyard, talking with Adam’s friend. People had firecrackers and bottle rockets and whatnot, and were occasionally setting them off. But all in all it was a fairly mellow vibe. Most everyone was relaxing around the fire and chilling out. And then suddenly I remembered something: I had that huge stash of fireworks in my closet from the year before. I got really excited and excused myself from the party to go home and get them. Fifteen minutes later I returned, bearing the largest batch of fun you’ve ever seen. Adam’s friend seemed like a nice guy, and he was the host of the party, so I thought the decent thing to do was give him the fireworks and let him hand them out as he saw fit. Kind of like a “thanks for having me over” gift. He seemed genuinely touched by my offer. What I didn’t realize though, is that he was way drunker than I thought. I handed him the fireworks, and then without another word, he immediately walked over and threw the entire stash on top of the fire. Didn’t even take them out of the wrapper first.

I have to admit I was a little surprised. Prior to handing over my magnanimous gift, I’d envisioned it a lot differently. I saw him generously doling out the fireworks, a little at a time, to maximize the fun and make sure everyone got to participate — kind of like a 4th of July Santa. I pictured hours of entertainment and smiles all around. I’d imagined countless high-fives because my little donation had turned it into the best. party. ever. Instead I got PLOP! as the entire thing was unceremoniously thrown onto the fire.

When he did it, a couple of people laughed, but for the most part no one really responded. I don’t think any of us could have imagined what would happen next. I’m not sure how to describe it exactly, but within about 30 seconds or so, the immediate space around the fire started to grow very tense. There was a barely audible, subsonic hum as something unknown, something terrible, started to build. You could actually feel the air starting to vibrate. People began backing away, without even knowing why. Perhaps it’s that same sixth-sense mechanism that alerts animals to danger immediately before it happens. I don’t know. And then boom. It was Armageddon.

Okay. I was in the army. I’ve never seen real battle though. I was, however, trained enough to know what to expect. And I know that what happened that night was as close to a real war zone as I ever want to get. It was the real deal. Bombs were exploding. Missiles were flying in all directions. Projectiles full of red-hot napalm and the face of the devil were coming right toward you. I’ve already explained the layout of the yard to you. Suddenly there was a large number of people in a tight, closed-in space with limited exits who all wanted out. People were running and screaming. Clothes were on fire. The smell of burning hair and flesh worked its way into your nostrils. This was not a fun fireworks display for the kids. This was the night you were probably going to die. It was truly a time to try men’s souls. And it was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen.

When I’d entered the backyard earlier, I’d noticed there was an old screen door leaning up against the side of the house. Surprising myself with my quick thinking in time of danger, I immediately ran to the screen door and got behind it, using it as a shield. From my secure vantage point I could see everything. All fear of death aside, it was a really interesting (unintentional) experiment in human psychology. If you’d ever wondered how you’d react in time of crisis and you were there that night, you know. Some folks were cool under fire. Like me, they quickly sought cover or found some other avenue of escape. Some people panicked and ran aimlessly, bumping into each other like The Three Stooges. Yet others were heroes. I saw them trying to shield friends and girlfriends and helpless drunk people from the death that was raining down upon us. Some were lifting others over the fence where they could seek safety in the narrow-but-secure space between it and the surrounding buildings. I gestured to several people to join me behind the screen door. We didn’t have room for everyone though, so had to turn some away. Tough decisions were made. Some people tried only to save themselves, pushing others out of the way George Costanza-style. Some just sat there waiting for the end, either too drunk or too paralyzed with fear to do anything. You never truly know what you’re made of until you find yourself in a situation like that.

Eventually, the riot of light and noise started to subside. People started slowly coming out of their hiding places like timid bunnies, eyes wide, only to quickly scurry back when a tardy firecracker decided to detonate. At some point though, we realized that it was finally over. It was safe to come back.

As we started taking stock of the situation, and everyone located the friends and loved ones they’d arrived with, we were surprised to learn that no one was really hurt — at least not physically. I can’t speak to the emotional scars though. I’m willing to bet that some friendships and relationships were strengthened that night due to heroism, and others irrevocably damaged due to cowardice.

Like people tend to do after a tragedy, we tried to return to normalcy as quickly as possible. Within 10-15 minutes, things went back to how they were prior to the catastrophe. People were drinking and socializing like nothing had really happened. But I know I’ll never forget it. And I believe we all gained something really important that 4th of July: the knowledge that you should never throw 30 pounds of fireworks on a bonfire.