Let's get Illegal this 4th of July

I have two funny stories about America's Independence Day as seen through the eyes of a Gen X'er:

FIRST:

A random mid-afternoon in the 1980's when I was crouched over a small glass bottle (possibly a Coca Cola?) trying to situate two bottle rockets for synchronous flight as the sun baked onlookers. The atmosphere was triumphant - A new suburb in a small metropolis where the average resident was busy either drinking beer or fussing over a barbeque pit or pawning off fireworks to the "kids". I was old enough to know how dangerous fireworks could be, but toiled busily over what I thought would be an impressive beginning of a fireworks show.

We were all faced North in this small cul-de-sac, all at once waiting for something and for nothing. No one crowded me as I contemplated my little pyrotechnics display.

Suddenly, while trying to light two disjointed bottle rocket fuses, a large hand intruded into my pyromanic fit.

"Hey - You're doing it wrong!"

I tilted my head to see a fully-uniformed San Antonio Police Officer addressing me. Before I could break a panicked sweat, he had manipulated the bottle rockets into one large cluster of twisted fuses and goaded me to, "go ahead - light it!"

It wasn't rocket science to know that a 10-year-old would put a cheap cigarrette lighter to a mass of fuses just to see what happened...

A trailing burst of gunpowder later, we were all "ooohs!" and "aaaahs!" while the policeman winked and nodded at my newfound technique. The rest of the afternoon was an impressive one-up on the local kids, trying to see who could blow their fingers off with a random assortment of fireworks as a varied mix of community professionals gawked on. Yes, there were firefighters present, but only to enjoy the free beer that was making the rounds!

How times have changed. I can still smell the burning cordite and the starch in Officer McFriendly's shirt.

SECOND:

Flash forward to the year 2007 and making a chance stop at one of the still-remaining fireworks stands at the outskirts of town. Not really knowing what to expect in my late 30's, I was surprised to see a Fire Marshal standing at the counter, resplendent in full uniform and radio and incognito pickup truck. BEXAR COUNTY FIRE MARSHAL, in case you didn't see the reflective 3M tape on his jumper.

As luck would have it, this fireworks stand was right next to a small Mexican Restaurant, so being the ever-paranoid White Guy, I quickly veered to the parking lot of El Chapparral to "get a Taco" while Mr. Enforcement was looking busy and agitated at the lack of customers at the stand. In about 5 minutes, I was back at the fireworks stand ordering all sorts of incendiary goodness. Even the employees were breathing a sigh of relief that the wet-sponge on the whole affair was gone for awhile.

Sadly, most of the fireworks I bought that afternoon were duds, but you can bet I'll be back there this Friday just on the whim that my niece or nephew would enjoy one well burned firecracker some 30 years after we didn't have to look over our shoulder before we indulged in a little harmless fun.

Paranoiacs, you may now water your roof.