The Netherlands supposedly has a tradition of setting off consumer fireworks for NYE. The image of the tradition goes something like this:
Family and friends gather for NYE. Everyone wears their prettiest…jeans (Dutch people categorically do not dress up). There is champagne and “oliebollen” (lit. “oil balls”, deep fried dough). At midnight, everybody steps outside and the dads set off pretty fireworks. Happy New Years are exchanged, fireworks are admired, children sent to bed, all is right with the world.
Reality is more like this:
From late November, cities turn into warzones. Children throw explosives at people, animals and esp. in the underground container communal rubbish collection facilities. The bigger the BOOOM, the more you scared someone, the better. It raises your adrenaline for the whole month. All pets become afraid of loud noises because the onslaught is overwhelming.
Adults drive to Eastern Europe to buy explosives that are illegal here. How the children end up with the explosives I see them with, I cannot say. People spend thousands; last year 105 million euros for 17 million people.
In the north, there’s the tradition of exploding carbide in old-fashioned milk cans. For the big boom.
I usually work NYE. Trying to get the car out of town is insane. There are fireworks and explosives on the road everywhere and it’s hard to see with the gunpowder fumes. The red paper gets wet and coats the streets in sludge.
Every December, children lose eyes, fingers and sometimes their lives. Their parents tearfully make the rounds on television, warning others that — who knew? — explosives can explode.
Every December, the emergency rooms and eye hospitals plead with people to be responsible. The environmental and animal orgs plead with people. Psych orgs and orgs for refugees plead with people to remember those with PTSD.
On Boxing Day, my dad gathers up the animals in an ark (Volvo) and heads out to the woods until it’s over.
The law is that it’s legal to set off consumer fireworks, bought legally in the Netherlands, on NYE from 10 PM. After the pandemic lock downs many people realised how insanely peaceful it is not to deal with a massive adrenaline surge and panicked pets all through December, so lots of cities banned consumer fireworks altogether. It hasn’t made a difference. Police do nothing. I think mostly because the boys who become police officers are the same boys who think “big boom cool, fuck you for taking away my big boom”.
People defend the use of fireworks with the image of the happy NYE gathering where the dads set off a few pretty fireworks in a responsible way, kids watching from a safe distance. (Women are probably in the kitchen, in this stupid fantasy, says enough.) This has nothing to do with reality.
What really helps is a rainy December. So I’m hoping for rain, nasty cold rain that drenches you no matter the precautions, puddles that seep through boots. Cold, relentless, torrential downpours through December please!
