Fireworks and Liquor
Friday, March 14th, 2008
Fireworks and Liquor. Where did this phrase come from? As hard as I try to remember, I haven’t a clue. All I know is that for the past several years if someone asks me what I would do if I won the lottery or inherited millions of dollars, I say, “buy fireworks and liquor.” I’m joking, of course. Mostly. A little bit.
I do have a fantasy, perhaps a dream, though, of throwing a huge outdoor party with lots of booze, music, food and meat. It would be a balmy night in a wide-open, flat area, preferably near a lake or an ocean. Everyone would be invited. I don’t care. People would be falling-down drunk, the music would make your teeth hurt and the smell of barbecuing meat of every kind would hang in the air. What else do you need? I’ll tell you.
Midnight pops into my head. It doesn’t have to be, though, it could be nine, ten, as long as it’s as dark as can be. I would choose a night with the smallest moon possible, one of those crescent or waning moons or whatever the hell they’re called, yet clear skies. There would be little to no artificial light nearby. Perfect. Then all of a sudden – BOOM! One of those bright white flash fireworks explodes in a way that not only do you hear it, you feel it in your chest. Your heart beats faster and your colon clinches. Well, maybe that’s just me.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The crowd’s just getting warmed up. Then, for several hours, non-stop fireworks of every kind. The sky is a kaleidoscope (yes, I said ‘kaleidoscope’) of green, red, blue, orange… every color of fire you can imagine. No, not deep ochre. It’s the most expensive display of all time. It’s the greatest waste of money… well, maybe not. Everybody’s cheering and clapping and yelling, but they can’t be heard above the explosions. They can hardly be seen because the smoke and ash fallout is too thick. God, it’s great! SMOKE! That unmistakable, intoxicating smell of gunpowder smoke. Okay, now I need a cold shower.
All right, you get the picture. Fireworks and Liquor. Maybe you have your own dream party planned. Please invite me. I promise to fall down.
Tune in next time for “Wickey – How My Love of Liquor Began”
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Steve Mancini is co-author of the best selling satirical novel “Weeping Willow: Welcome to River Bend“
