Boom! Oooh! Aaah!
Tomorrow is June 1, a big day in nearby South Dakota.
It’s the day that fireworks go on sale.
South Dakota is one of the few places left in this country where you can still legally buy high-quality, big booming class-C fireworks. And it’s not just “Piccolo Petes” or those stupid “bloomin’ chicken” things. We’re talking about bottle rockets, aerial projectiles with multiple reports, and 5,000 firecrackers on a roll big enough to thoroughly piss the neighbors off with 20 minutes of nonstop BANG!, followed by a huge paper mess left in their front yard.
You know – the good stuff.
Ah, but there’s a catch. What’s good (and legal) in SD is bad (and highly illegal) in nearby Iowa and Nebraska. We're allowed to have snakes, sparklers, and (ho, hum) "Pop-its", and that's all. So don’t get caught trying to bring a gross of bottle rockets or a carton of lady fingers back across the state line – or else the cops will nab ya for sure.
Now, I know. “Oh, pshaw – Tommy,” you’re probably thinking. (Aside: “pshaw” – that’s an old man term if there ever was one, ain’t it Mrs. G.?) The cops have better things to do with their time, right?
Um, not always. You see, this is Iowa, where a low crime rate = bored cops with lots of free time to enforce petty laws that are usually ignored in bigger cities.
Example? You can double park in Manhattan for an hour and be perfectly fine, or double park in Sioux City and have a ticket and a tow truck waiting for you in 30 seconds flat. Or you can drive 85 MPH on the Jersey turnpike without blinking an eye, but get a speeding ticket for 60 in a 55 zone here.
Two years ago they put undercover cops in the parking lot of the SD firework shops, who called their buddies across the state line with license plate numbers of shoppers from Iowa or Nebraska. Before you could get home with your newly purchased explosive loot, there’d be a John Bull waiting outside your house for you, ready to confiscate your goodies and to write you a citation. Gee, thanks a lot.
But that’s how it works around here. Not that I’m hoping for more murders or armed robberies to keep the local police from having so much idle time, but c’mon…
Anyway, tomorrow is fireworks day #1. And before you know it, little boys and girls around Siouxland (who were successful in their interstate smuggling endeavors) will be setting their sister’s hair on fire or filling their lungs with sulfur smoke or finding out why the dumb kid up the block is now called “stubby”. Good, clean, all-American fun.
In the next day or so I’ll confess why it is that I don’t partake in the fireworks game any longer. Let’s just say that I’m mighty grateful that the statute of limitations for my “fireworks gone awry” incident expired about 30 years ago…
But until then, cover your ears and count your fingers!
It’s the day that fireworks go on sale.
South Dakota is one of the few places left in this country where you can still legally buy high-quality, big booming class-C fireworks. And it’s not just “Piccolo Petes” or those stupid “bloomin’ chicken” things. We’re talking about bottle rockets, aerial projectiles with multiple reports, and 5,000 firecrackers on a roll big enough to thoroughly piss the neighbors off with 20 minutes of nonstop BANG!, followed by a huge paper mess left in their front yard.
You know – the good stuff.
Ah, but there’s a catch. What’s good (and legal) in SD is bad (and highly illegal) in nearby Iowa and Nebraska. We're allowed to have snakes, sparklers, and (ho, hum) "Pop-its", and that's all. So don’t get caught trying to bring a gross of bottle rockets or a carton of lady fingers back across the state line – or else the cops will nab ya for sure.
Now, I know. “Oh, pshaw – Tommy,” you’re probably thinking. (Aside: “pshaw” – that’s an old man term if there ever was one, ain’t it Mrs. G.?) The cops have better things to do with their time, right?
Um, not always. You see, this is Iowa, where a low crime rate = bored cops with lots of free time to enforce petty laws that are usually ignored in bigger cities.
Example? You can double park in Manhattan for an hour and be perfectly fine, or double park in Sioux City and have a ticket and a tow truck waiting for you in 30 seconds flat. Or you can drive 85 MPH on the Jersey turnpike without blinking an eye, but get a speeding ticket for 60 in a 55 zone here.
Two years ago they put undercover cops in the parking lot of the SD firework shops, who called their buddies across the state line with license plate numbers of shoppers from Iowa or Nebraska. Before you could get home with your newly purchased explosive loot, there’d be a John Bull waiting outside your house for you, ready to confiscate your goodies and to write you a citation. Gee, thanks a lot.
But that’s how it works around here. Not that I’m hoping for more murders or armed robberies to keep the local police from having so much idle time, but c’mon…
Anyway, tomorrow is fireworks day #1. And before you know it, little boys and girls around Siouxland (who were successful in their interstate smuggling endeavors) will be setting their sister’s hair on fire or filling their lungs with sulfur smoke or finding out why the dumb kid up the block is now called “stubby”. Good, clean, all-American fun.
In the next day or so I’ll confess why it is that I don’t partake in the fireworks game any longer. Let’s just say that I’m mighty grateful that the statute of limitations for my “fireworks gone awry” incident expired about 30 years ago…
But until then, cover your ears and count your fingers!
posted by Tommy G at
1:37 PM
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