: : home     : : reviews     : : days gone by     : : litmag     : : who?     : : neighbors     : : contact    

5 june 2001

no front-row seats for me, thanks

A friend of mine shoots fireworks for fun and profit, and I don't mean the cruddy backyard kind. He does big shows for entire towns, like on July 4th.

On Saturday night, I was invited to see a shoot up close and personal.

It was loud and scary and made me dizzy.

The crew shot this show over a middle school football field. It was the big finale for a local Race for Life--a small show, but nonetheless an impressive way to close the event. The shoot was set up behind the field. To enter the area, I was required to wear a hard hat (spiffy, no?) and safety glasses. I was also advised to wear earplugs.

It sounds totally fun so far, doesn't it.

Jeff (the guy in charge of the shoot) gave me a nickel tour before the show, showing me the racks and the fireworks themselves. Knowing little to nothing about fireworks, I always assumed it was more militaristic than this--guns, cannons, flamethrowers, etc. Because this was a manually-ignited show (there are also electric ones, like at Disneyworld), it was a strikingly simple-looking layout. Secured within the wooden racks were a whole bunch of long, black tubes. Inside each tube was one shooter-upper of a firework, which looked like a three-inch-wide cherry bomb.

Fantasies of snapping one of these doodads into my old high school hallway? Absolutely.

There were three or four racks, I think: one for the salute, a bigger one for the bulk of the show, and another big one for the finale. How to light them, you ask? WITH A ROAD FLARE!

Yeah, watching that part would be what made me dizzy.

Call me overly empathatic and worrisome. But if you've ever seen people hand-light fireworks, you'll know what I'm talking about. This is what happens:

• Pyro person walks up to tube with lit-up road flare.
• He lights little firework tail that is sticking out of tube.
• Pyro turns back away from tube. I didn't say, "run like hell". I didn't say "hits the ground". I mean, like "pivots on his foot and maybe takes a small step". Ack!
• Kim's eyes bug out behind her tres dorky safety glasses.
• Firework goes boom!
• Rinse and repeat.
• After five minutes of head bobbing up and down to make sure pyros are still alive, fireworks actually went up in the air where they're supposed to, Kim wrings hands.

I was about 100 yards back. It wasn't far enough.

Now, these pyro people love this stuff. And to them, I say God bless 'em. Someone's got to do it. But let me assure you that, for the regular fireworks spectator, the bleachers is the place to be. When I see fireworks, I want my job to be easy. Look up and go "ooh" and "aah"? Yeah, I can do that. I don't want to worry about one of those little tubes toppling over in the direction of someone's leg. I don't need the constant temptation of screaming, Run! Run for your life!

Air. Fire. Water. Earth. Earth, yep. That's the one for my feet.