On the Independence Day hubby and I decided to forgo the fireworks down on the mall. We just didn’t feel like braving both the heat and the crowds. (Is this proof positive that we’re officially old farts now?) But as darkness began to fall I sensed he was feeling that a Fourth without fireworks was somehow incomplete.
So we hopped in the car to head to the Fairfax fireworks. It’s just a few miles from our house, easily viewed from the parking lot of the Home Depot, all in all a simple endeavor. Plus, for local fireworks, they ain’t half bad.
Actually, I was more pumped for stopping for soft ice cream afterwards. We thought we’d go to Woody’s, a barebones ice cream stand owned by a chap who retired from his work, but wasn’t ready to quit working. He hires local kids to run the establishment. Grabbing a cone there feels like helping the locals.
The first sign that something was amiss came when we turned in at the Home Depot and saw only one other car awaiting the evening spectacle. By this time the sun was pretty low in the sky and we were expecting to see the masses gathering.
We drove a bit further to the high school which is ground zero for the fireworks and saw the sign. Fireworks, June 3. We missed the show by 24 hours.
Since when are the Fourth of July fireworks on the Third of July?
But, a soft ice cream cone was just the ticket to boost our sagging spirits.
Strike two. When we pulled up to wet our whistles we discovered that not only was Woody’s no longer in business, the building was entirely gone.
Joni Mitchell’s classic song came true. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot. Which we used for turning around.
But the evening wasn’t a total bust. We found a Wendy’s and I suggested we get a couple of the 99 cent Frosty’s I’d seen advertised on television. Except in the overpriced DC market they cost $1.39. Even more surprising was the size cup they used. A mere four ounces. I’ve had ice cream samples bigger than that. Shame on you, Wendy’s.
But as we drove home downing our mini-Frosty’s we could see just above the horizon in the distance the fireworks from the next community over. I guess the folks in Vienna checked their calendars a little more carefully.
Little ice cream and little fireworks.
Funny, you and I are the same age, but I officially became an old fart after going to the 1976 DC fireworks, and fainting in the Metro on account of the crush.
Same thing here – Denver fireworks were on Saturday. I thought that was bizarre, and it wouldn’t have occurred to me to check on July 2nd!
Our local (little, fireworksless) celebration was also on July 3. But July 5th was a holiday for most. Do I get it? No. We don’t get fireworks, being in the midst of a national forest, with fire danger high. But still – so the 4th was on a Sunday – church is over by noon.