Explosive Night

One of my least favorite nights of the year is October 31.

It could be that I don’t really enjoy having a bunch of strangers ringing my doorbell.

For hours... and hours.

It could be the outrageous calorie count that comes with the holiday.

And the days after.

Or it could go all the way back to when I was 12 years old.

When I was the victim of a drive-by.

A drive-by egging.

I was walking around the neighborhood.

With a full pillowcase of candy.

At the end of a very successful night of trick or treating.

When some local high school hoodlums threw eggs at me from a moving car.

I’m not sure if the eggs were intended for me.

I’m not sure if they knew who they were throwing at.

And I’m not even sure if they hit me.

But those oval shaped tubs of cholesterol clearly did some emotional damage.

A few minutes later I was walking home.

Alone.

In the dark.

(Not the smartest plan I now realize.)

When someone quietly came up from behind me.

And knocked me to the ground.

Fortunately I was not hurt.

Physically.

But my entire pillowcase was gone.

Candy and all.

Now we didn’t exactly live in the worst place ever.

So this night of attacks was very much out of the ordinary.

But it left me not feeling all that great about Halloween.

To this day, I still take my kids around the neighborhood on that night.

And sometimes I even enjoy it.

But I’m always looking over their shoulder.

And mine too.

Halloween is on a very short list of holidays that I don’t love.

I love Thanksgiving.

And Christmas.

And Passover.

Pretty much any holiday that has anything to do with food.

But one holiday that is a close runner up to Halloween is the fourth of July.

Now I love the United States.

And everything it stands for.

And I respect our history.

And I love celebrating our birthday.

But what I don’t really love is the fireworks.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely L O V E fireworks shows.

With all the ooohs and the aaaahs.

Sitting in a stadium, watching the show.

But nowadays you don’t have to go that stadium for the show.

You just need to go to your local neighborhood.

And you’ll hear more explosions than a Michael Bay movie.

And that freaks me out.

Last night we were invited to a local party where the main attraction was a chef.

Ranked as one of the top 5 BBQrs in the world.

And after eating his pulled pork and brisket, I’m wondering who is ahead of him.

All of the guests were asked to bring a side dish.

So my wife made her pasta salad.

It is ranked 7,582 in our county.

Once dinner ended and I was submerged in a food coma, the show started.

Well it wasn’t announced as a show.

It just turned into one.

Fireworks, firecrackers and just plain fire were exploding right in front of us. 

For two straight hours... at least.   It was still going when we left.

There were probably a hundred or so people there.

So we all had front row seats.

I moved my lawn chair back a little, to the third row.

Sitting behind someone else’s kids.

You know, in case something went wrong.

I’m not sure where all these fireworks came from, but they couldn’t have been too hard to find.

There are these shacks all over the place now, selling all types of explosive toys.

I always drive right past them, so I don’t really know what exactly they are selling.

Or what it costs.

But I was told we were witness to a show last night that cost “thousands of dollars”.

Holy economy Batman!

At one point when one of the cool ones went off.

I heard, “there’s goes $20.”

$20 x two hours worth of $20.... yep, that’s a lot of cash.

The guy next to me had a laundry basket of fireworks.

So he was extremely popular with the kids.

You know that whole thing about young boys loving fire.

IT’S TRUE!

But the adults seem to love it too.

Me, I came for the brisket.

And I enjoyed every single bite.

Maybe we need to BBQ on Halloween.