Article
My fourth
Seems everyone is posting about the fourth of July, but I assure you: My experience was different. Very different.
My neighbor (and brother August's godfather) Scott has his federal fireworks permit. So, while the neighborhood is lighting bottle rockets and fountains that shoot 10' in the air, we are burying steel tubes--some as large as 8 inches--in the ground. And sorting 500 shells. And wiring together boxes for a 500-shot finale that lasts 10 minutes.
We begin early in the morning, with a drive to nearby Fisk, WI. After loading boxes of 3, 4, 5, 6, and 8 inch shells into three vehicles, we drive back home (very carefully) to begin preparing. If the show gets cancelled for any reason, we have to drive them back that night. Scott is not allowed to store any fireworks overnight.
One box had four 8" shells in it, and it weighed 50 lbs. When you take away the packaging and the cardboard outer layer of the shell, that's probably 30lbs of explosive--a massive lifting charge to propel the 10 lb ball out of the tube, another charge to break the 1/4" thick cardboard walls and ignite the strips of magnesium and other metals that burn in bright, flaming colors.
After dark, it's an adrenaline-fed rush, an hour-long show shot by three teams of three. Remove the fuse cover, start your torch, duck, light, turn and run. And repeat. And repeat. And when you get a short fuse, or accidentally touch your flame halfway up the fuse, get ready to hit the ground.
This is usually me, but due to my lung problems, Scott kicked me off for a year. I used the opportunity to shoot 3 hours of video, which will eventually become a C-grade documentary. In the meantime, I give you photos (one, two), and 60 seconds of video (Quicktime .mov format). Enjoy!
