Share your firework stories

I don’t have any really dramatic ones, but here’s a couple:

  1. When I was ten years old, we were playing with some kind of firework. I don’t remember what kind, but you lit it, and then it would fly around about 4-6 feet in the air, right in front of you, before popping. Not terribly dangerous. We lit it, and it did its thing, and flew straight towards me. I remember backing up furiously but not fast enough - it landed my arm and burned me, leaving a small scar that I still have twenty-five years later. :eek:

  2. In India, there’s like no safety regulations for fireworks, at all. People hurt themselves and others all the time. I’ve been several times, and at least one time I went at Diwali which is when they let off hundreds of thousands of fireworks, right in the street. It’s considered funny to scare the crap out of passersby when you let them off…but they are stupendous, and that is the closest I ever got to bottle rockets, and those things that look like fountains. Once they threw one at my aunt’s feet. It didn’t hurt her, but it nearly gave her a heart attack. My cousins were some of the biggest perpetrators.

How about yours? Love to hear them!

Here was the recipe for hours of good times for a 12-year-old RR: an apple tree, a bag full of blackcats (ie, the fireworks that just go pop), and a pencil.

When I was a teenager, we used to have fireworks fights. We’d chase each other around an abandoned stone quarry, firing off roman candles and bottle rockets at each other. Stupendously dangerous and stupid (and fun). No one ever got hurt, but I did take a roman candle shot in the back that burnt a hole through the shirt I was wearing. I got pretty good at tossing bottle rockets up in the air so that the heavy firecracker portion would just begin to point downwards as the rocket ignited. We also found that the hollow metal supports you use for putting up tents worked well as bottle rocket launcher tubes.

A long time ago, then-boyfriend-now-husband won me a gigantic stuffed snake (standing up on a curled up base like a python for a snake charmer) at one of those carny games at the state fair. We named him Monty.

Monty eventually got relegated to my parent’s basement, and Mom finally had had enough. “Come get your snake,” she said. Problem was, he’d gotten damp and spidery and didn’t stand up well anymore and while I still treasured the memory of Monty, I didn’t really treasure him all that much. My parents had a get-together involving a fire and fireworks (it might have been for the 4th, I don’t remember) and we decided that we’d burn Monty there.

Except my husband decided he’d have fun with Monty first, using his nose as a base from which to launch bottle rockets. SpouseO propped up his head so Monty would more or less stand up again, and off he went. Much fun was had by all. Little puffs of stuffing would also go up from Monty’s nose, making him look some like a dragon.

SpouseO put one of the last bottle rockets in Monty’s nose and lit it. And then Monty slumped over. My husband yelled “Watch out!” ineffectually as the bottle rocket zoomed straight under the bench on which Mom, my SIL, my sister, and I were sitting. Bang!

We didn’t even have time to scatter. Bottle rockets are LOUD when they explode right under you, even the largely handicapped ones they sell today.

But Monty got a good sendoff.

Three years ago on the night of the Fourth, my sister’s apartment was destroyed along with hundreds of others after some jackass shot fireworks off over the roof. The fire spread through connected attics and leveled 5 buildings. No one was killed, thankfully, but my sister lost everything she owned, along with a lot of other people.

Moral: be careful.

Fireworks are a ton of fun–I have a bag full of them myself for the weekend–but taking them out in the open land where accidents are less likely seems like a good idea.

I had a first date on the 4th of July once. My date’s house was right next door to where the fireworks display was being held. She could never go out on the 4th because she was worried about something landing in her back yard and starting a fire.

So we set up the barbie and got out the lawn chairs. We had a great time fixing dinner together and watching the show going on right overhead. Sure enough, a couple of embers fell on the lawn, but it was nothing serious. At the end of the night we had our first kiss and I said, “Wow, two sets of fireworks in one night, what a deal!”

Best, “Isn’t that special!” post, so far! :smiley:

I once found some year old rockets and decided to launch them on the 4th. Turns out it was a bad idea. The first one just sort of fizzled out and landed on my neighbor’s roof instead of flying high into the air. On the roof, however, it exploded as designed, and started a little fire. I ran over with a hose and put it out before any real damage was done. (the neighbor wasn’t home at the time). Could have burned down the whole house.

I got engaged on the Fourth, so maybe that counts.

Some years later, we took a family vacation to San Diego, and visited Sea World on that date. We went out to the car for a better view of their fireworks show, and to get a jump on the traffic. Every time they’d launch one that had a concussion charge, a moment later we’d hear the reply by the chorus of car horns as the alarms were triggered. Got us all rolling in laughter every time, it did.

July 4th, 1991. I remember the date because we saw The Rocketeer in the theater earlier that day. We were spending the evening at the farm of a family friend and were lighting off fireworks. I had the bright idea of attaching a length of string to one of those “shooting stars” with the idea that if I held the other end and lit it, it would spin furiously in a neat circle around my head. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Of course, that didn’t work as planned - it shot in a half circle and proceeded to lodge itself firmly in my right bicep like a tiny piece of napalm. Still have the scar, 20 years later!

When my wife and I first started dating, she bought a whole bunch of fireworks for us to light off in the park. I was about 20 feet away from her as she was launching bottlerockets. I don’t remember how it happened, exactly, but I just remember her yelling “Watch out!” and seeing a rocket coming towards my face at about half the speed of light.
I did a Matrix move where I ducked quickly backwards and to the side. The rocket exploded where my eye had been just a second before. All I could hear from my right eardrum was a loud ring. For the next few hours I wondered if I would go deaf.

My wife just burst out laughing. To her credit, it was because her emotions had swung so far past “hysterical crying” at nearly blinding/killing/maiming me she didn’t really know what to do.

In the bad old days, my brother used to set off a type of firework that was kind of like a horizontal bottle rocket. You placed it in the middle of the street and lit it, and it shot down the pavement making a loud whistling noise as it sent out a cascade of sparks and smoke.

These were know as “nigger chasers.” I’ve always wondered if that was the real name (which wouldn’t surprise me) or just an offensive nickname.

(As a teenager, smuggling fireworks across the border–hidden by dismantling the interior panels of the car…)

Boarder Patrol Agent: “Are you bringing anything to the U.S. from Mexico?”

“Well, actually, yes.”

"What would that be?

“Bolillos. Fresh bolillos. Here they are.” I opened the bakery bag, and so he could smell how fresh they were.

“Is that it?”

"Well–we also have some mole. See? "

“Ah. Abuelita. Been shopping? Any fresh fruits or vegetables?”

“Does guayaba jam count? (Show it to him!)”

“Oh. Conchita. Anything else to declare?”

“You know, we got some burritos back there at the start of the line…”

He got really serious. “What do mean? What kind?”

“Carnitas.”

Pause. “Be careful. Have a nice day.”

My lesson in not mixing fireworks with alcohol:
Was at a nice big New Year’s party at a friends house. We had all brought our own small stashes of fireworks to set off at midnight. Midnight hits and we all run outside pretty well lit. I had a few of those mortar tube type. A cardboard tube about 18" tall fixed to a wood base. You dropped a mortar ball in which had a really long wick. Light it, get back, and watch as it launched the ball into the sky then exploded.
Not exciting enough for a drunk. I picked it up and decided I could just hold the tube over my head while it launched. Bad idea. The initial explosion which was supposed to launch the ball from the tube instead blew off the wood bottom of the tube showering me with hot gas and sparks. The ball went nowhere. I immediately dropped the tube and jumped up. The ball exploded inside the tube as I leapt.
No real injuries except some minor burns and scorch marks. I felt pretty stupid as everyone probably laughed at the drunk guy being stupid with fireworks.

I was always scared silly of fireworks. Every year my folks would drag me (well I think my family would be dragged by someone) and I would sit in the car and cry.

I don’t like loud noises or surprises. I just f’n hate fireworks.

When I was 17-18-19 I worked at the restaurant at the local amphitheater. Our restaurant was only open when the Cleveland Orchestra played, which included the big fireworks weekends for the 4th of July.

One time I was working and I had to run up to one of the outbuildings during a fireworks display, so that I could have my desserts ready for the post-fireworks crowd. This meant I had to drive around in a golf cart while fireworks were being blown off and not be a scared little girl.

I did it, an the outbuilding that I had to drive to happened to be just in front of where the fireworks were being blown off. I don’t think I was supposed to be up there. I was driving around in soot and sparks. It was scary. I lived.

After that I just stopped being afraid of fireworks. Just like that. Now I really really enjoy the fireworks at Indians’ games. I’ve also seen a few other displays.

A few issues remain tho:

  1. Since I hated going to fireworks displays as a kid, I feel no urge to go see them now as an adult, so I generally do not see 4th of July Fireworks
  2. Even if I wanted to, I have to hang out with my dog during fireworks-y times (like this Friday-Monday) due to her total fear of anything that goes “boom”
  3. I still hate and am scared of and do not want to be around non-professional, bang-bang, in-my-hand fireworks. Take 'em elsewhere, please.
  1. Once I jam-packed my grandparent’s medicine jar lid (approx 2" dia and sorta heavy as it was more than likely made of glass or maybe thick molded plastic) with firecrackers and match sticks, and lit them. After the impressive explosion this lid floated straight up (not shot up) into the sky (well I lost sight of it) like a flying saucer. That freaked me out and I was sure I discovered something. I swore when I grew up I was going become a scientist and figure out how to harness this phenomena to build a flying saucer. I became an artist. I still might build a saucer. I hope I didn’t give away my secret.

  2. I was throwing lit firecrackers into a 3" dia. pipe that was stuck in the ground. One of them didn’t go off. I waited for a bit then stuck my right ear right at the mouth of the pipe to see if I could hear anything. Guess what happened? I was hearing noises out of that ear for many years. I’m okay now… I think.

  3. At a 4th BBQ party while I was drinking a cold bottle of beer someone handed me a handful of firecrackers with the fuse tied up. I lit the fuse and tried to throw them but because my hand was wet from the condensation on the bottle they were stuck to my fingers. As they were going off I frantically flailed my arm trying to get them off. Well eventually most of them came off but some of them already blew off. Some burns but not too seriously. Always dry your hand before lighting fireworks.

Maybe some other time. I’m not sure the statute of limitations has expired yet.

Back before I got married, I used to head up north of Seattle to my cousin’s place for the 4th. The usual thing would be to spend the day at a family friend’s beach house, eating and drinking and telling lies until just before dark. Then cousin and I would motor back to his place for the festivities. Across the country lane from his place lived a very interesting family. Ex-bikers with kids, and a sister-in-law that worked for the governor as an art advisor…that sort of group. By 9pm the adults would be so liquored up they couldn’t be trusted with fireworks, so we’d take over. I’d watch the adults while my cousin supervised the older kids setting off mortars, sky bursts, and all sorts of “totally illegal just about anywhere else” fireworks. Usually about $1000+ worth. Great show, free beer, and the bikers were pretty sheepish when they’d fire a bottle rocket at the back of my head and I’d catch them at it.

“Alright! Who’s the wise guy?”

<embarrassed looks away>

“Am I going to have to tell your wives?”

“Nossir.”

“I’d better not.”
Good times.

When I was about 5, my parents took me to see the local city fireworks on the 4th and when it got really loud and scary, and my parents were oohing and aahing at the beautiful colors, I was so terrified that I bit my father’s thigh - and I mean, really tore in there! It left one hell of a bruise and I believe might have even caused blood to flow -it was family lore for decades later.
I think the next time they took me to see fireworks, I was about 13.

BTW, is it only a Nevada thing, but here the fireworks booths are all set up at gas stations. Really?! Fireworks booths ten feet from thousands of gallons of gasoline?! Gee - what could possible go wrong with that?

When I was in high school in Houston, it was considered great fun to buy a shitload of fireworks, then drive out to Addicks Dam, in what is now George Bush Park, and shoot them off. There is a spillway that is a giant concrete tube, probably 20 feet high, and my - how wonderful those fireworks sounded when you shot them into the spillway.

We would take apart a 50 pack of Black Cats, dump the powder and fuses into a piece of paper, then roll it up, stick a fuse in it, tape it with duct tape, light it and run like hell. The last one I made, I put under a rock that weighed about 10 pounds. The rock went airborne for a goodly distance and the blast dug a hole about a feet deep.

Good times, good times.