Bostonist is always amused by post-Fourth-of-July news stories about fireworks, because, well, how much can you really report about fireworks? They were awesome as usual. The 1812 Overture was played and cannons were fired. The happy crowd was suffused with unbridled love of country and the ghosts of John and Abigail Adams looked on benevolently from Quincy, their view obstructed by that enormous windmill by 93. What we would like to know from you, dear readers, is this: What was unusual about your Fourth of July fireworks-watching activity? Did you surreptitiously gain access to some forbidden place with a great view? Did you forego the crush on the Esplanade and enjoy your neighborhood's local illegal backyard displays? Did anyone put their eye out, as Mom always warned us we would when we played with bottle rockets in our youth? Give us the details.
Photo courtesy of flickr.com / user: Carl M.
For our part, Bostonist had the good fortune some years back to marry a wonderful woman among whose many charms is having parents with a great deck in the South End. From there, we had a view of the show obstructed only by the Hancock building. In addition to the ooh- and ahh-inducing official display, we enjoyed a well-done local show that seemed to be coming from somewhere around Ramsey Park, until a pesky police helicopter showed up and hovered over the spot for twenty minutes. Two other things seemed worthy of note:
1) The scrolling display on the Goodyear blimp, urging us to check our tire pressure in order to get the best gas mileage, reminded us somehow of Blade Runner, and kind of creeped us out (especially since we'd had to stop while driving back from Providence that day to put more air in our leaky rear left tire).
2) As was the case when Bostonist drove from the in-laws' place back to Somerville after the Sox World Series win, the streets were full of jammed traffic and good-natured bedlam, but there was something very different about last night's chaos: Where the Sox victory moved complete strangers to yield the right-of-way to one another, the birthday of our nation seemed to encourage bold violations of basic traffic laws. We were most impressed with the spontaneous decision of about ten drivers to convert one block of Magazine Street in Cambridge from a two-way street to a one-way street (and felt especially sorry for the law-abiding citizen who tried to drive down that block in the right direction). Strangely, the only place where we saw police actually come out and attempt to direct traffic through all the gridlock was at Inman Square, where there was no traffic at all.
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