Last night was exceptionally wild! Indian Shores, the beach I live on, was packed with patriotic pyromaniacs all trying to bomb everyone else to hell and back. I felt like I had somehow found my way into one of those operatic war dramas where everyone moved in slow-motion, garrish neon lights flashed on and off, and explosives detonated at a low roar in the background . People were running back and forth, laughing, screaming, and singing, lights flashed overhead occaisionally, but mostly the fireworks (handled by people who had started celebrating really early in the morning) were aimed in EVERY direction except up! I had ample opportunity to perfect my dive and roll throughout the night. At one point a bottlerocket nearly took my head off. If I hadn't ducked in time, I would have a had much more to worry about than my singed hair. My friends and I darted between bonfires and pilfered some pretty hefty explosives, most of which boasted such names as "Terrorist Blasters" and "Freedom Fighters." Americans can never be accused of being subtle. I passed by one group that was really fucking drunk. These faithful Americans would light off mega rounds of ammunition, while shouting at the top of their lungs. The only words I could make out between the fireworks, belches, and farts were, "Fucking bastards, Osama Bin Lauden, Saddam Hussien," and, "Go America!" I don't know about you, but I feel much safer knowing we've got the cream of the crop on our side. It's no wonder the whole world thinks we're trigger happy red necks.