The 4th of July?…or just in the blood!

Desiring to fulfill the great american dream of watching fireworks for the 4th of July landed my wife, son and I in the great town of Port Hueneme. Where the hell is Port Hueneme? Who cares? We were on the beach watching the crowds develop along the water’s edge in gloom-cloudy weather, tossin’ a few back and enjoying a fresh Churchill.

The master plan included grilled Rib-eye steaks, zucchini, onions and potatoes. The day was to include sun, but we settled for clouds and overcast, which is a typical thing for Southern California on this date; so I quickly donned the sweats to replace the shorts and t-shirt, attempting to ward off the breeze. The plan also included sitting and watching the silliness of the crowds. Watching the hoards od people flock to gain a better glimpse of the mortar and rocketry to be exploded at precisely 9pm above their heads. We, on the other hand, were to climb a rickety-assed ladder to sit atop his home and get the premium view of the “Shock and Awe”.

Well, it must be in the blood, or maybe a dose of trying to keep up with me. My brother executed drinks on the deck, going from light beer to dark. Chardonnay to Cabernet. Finally, Pendleton Canadian Whiskey, all why continuing our stogies, telling fables and factuals about life. We were now solving all of life’s problems and celebrating more to come. While perched overlooking the ocean and the sea of knuckleheads, he would point out the finer aspects of his location. Like Mat (so he’s called) a young (20’s) long-haired delinquent continually riding his bike around the flag display that symbolises the entrance to the beach. Occasionally Mat would look below the rim of his ball cap to sneer at the approaching Police SUV that would make its way over the curb, up the embankment, and past where Mat was executing flawless bicycle stunt manuevers. The SUV never would stop, only pass by and glance at Mat as he would pull off an axle grind, followed by a manual, long enough to encircle the flag area…, followed by an aerial 360, followed by another manual, then a reverse manual. This kid was pretty damn talented. This display of riding, knucklehead watching and SUV curbing would repeat itself every half hour or so. Another thing were the amazing Pelicans that flew by several times in perfect aerodynamic wing-tip vortices, scouring the surf and playing follow the leader. There must have been 30+ birds. My brother finally starts the charcoal…

Only moments seem to pass through the conversations with my wife, son, and sister-in-law as my brother announces that dinner is done. I notice his anal plating in the kitchen and had to take a shot. Anal plating was nothing compared to the level of anal he goes through trying to execute the entire day for us. He did a great job, until…

Soon after dinner, he arrives up on the balcony sporting several lawn chairs and a rickety-assed wooden stepladder that would even shame the beach campfires smoking along the coast. He made our drunk asses climb this thing to gain access to the top of his house to view the firework display. Ok, I’ll try. Finally we all made it to the top, cocktails in hand and ready to watch. “What time is it?” One of us asks. “It’s 8:30”, claims my wife. We are like, “our drinks are going to run out”. So back down again and refill the drinks as one or two of us attempt our Cirque Du Soleil acrobat decent and subsequent Mt Everest climb of the busted ladder…

8:55, and other than the occasional bottle rocket, the first of the displays hit the sky. I want to tell you that this was the most fabulous display I have ever seen…but, kinda like Chevy Chase in the movie “Vacation” while looking at the Grand Canyon for about 5 seconds…”Ok kids, let’s go!” Fireworks still amaze all of us and we still watch but, like looking at the Grand Canyon…it all kinda looks the same.

So for this great day I give it 34-and-a-half Pelicans. Why the 1/2? Because I couldn’t count them all because I had my beer goggles on.


CritDicks on Dwellable


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