Saturday, July 5, 2014

It's Not A Party Until You Start A Fire

This is the story of a typical American holiday JGP-style.

As usual it all started with great friends, some sunshine, a pool, and a few too many alcoholic beverages. After somehow managing to spend 7 hours at the pool and not get third-degree burns all over my body, and some (not really) floating table beer pong we headed home for some much needed grub. There may have also been a quick nap thrown in there at some point too. 

We finally fed ourselves and waited on the sun to go down. And it took approximately 30 minutes of moonlight to start a ruckus. Boys being boys means that roman candle fireworks are used for Harry Potter-style wand fights in the parking lot. 

Entertaining? Yes. Safe? Absolutely not. 

We didn't have any men down during the first go-round, so we came back inside to eat again, probably, and enjoy some air conditioning. While we're all chillin' out, relaxin', maxin' all cool one fellow in the room casually asks:

"So do you think we started that fire or one of the neighbors did?"

I'm sorry. What?!

Yeah. Exactly. So we all jump up and look outside and find that, yes, there is indeed a raging fire happening in the middle of a patch of pine straw in the parking lot. 

After a lot of (drunken) panic, a couple buckets of water, some neighbors' assistance, and my genius friend Melissa knowing that there is a fire extinguisher in my house (really, it was news to me!), we got the fire out. 

Five minutes later and we are back out there blowing more things up. A little fire is just the start to the party, right?

Right, Caley! So keep the party going by shooting off a grenade in the middle of the parking lot next! Duh. The package said "Small Festive Balls." I'm expecting some sort of strange little ball that will bounce around and maybe shoot some sparks or something. 

No. No, no no. Not at all.

I light this sucker, toss is about 5 feet from where I'm sitting on the ground, panic a little, assume the fetal position, and wait for the excitement. Buttttt I almost blew everyone up. This was an actual rocket-style firework that I set off on the concrete. It's supposed to be in a tube and shoot in the sky. After the smoked cleared and I regained my hearing, I was getting yelled at by the poor innocent fellows that I didn't give a warning to. My B, y'all. 

Won't do it again, promise...

She says as she drops a lit bottle rocket on the ground in a panic and it shoots off into the woods surely to start another fire.

It didn't.

But all of this happened.

And yes, I am a pyromanic. So yes, this was very entertaining to me. No, nobody died. And yes, the neighborhood was very entertained by our antics in the street. So as far as I'm concerned, it was a wonderfully successful evening. And I've learned the hard way that "festive balls" are more grenade-like than they would like you to think. So be careful, kids!

Any fun antics during your 4th of July celebrations?

xoxo, jgp

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