You legally can start blowing stuff up in about 35 minutes. Woohoo!
I used to be a big-time fireworks junkie. I'm sure my friends and I drove our neighbors nuts. If the constant bang of firecrackers wasn't enough to drive them nuts, there were other annoyances like smoke and the constant danger of fire caused by our dangerous experiments. (Have you ever shot an arterial shell horizontally? Good times.)
Ten years ago I managed a fireworks tent for the first time. I operated a Sav'n Sam's tent in the Wal-Mart parking lot on North 27th Street. It was a prime location, for two reasons: One, it drew a constant stream of traffic. And two, Wal-Mart's clientele matched our primary market almost perfectly. What was our primary market, you ask? Relatively poor white families. I didn't really know that when I first started, but it quickly became clear. It also quickly became depressing. Many folks came in and spent a lot of money -- and I mean a lot of money -- on fireworks, when it was clear that fireworks probably shouldn't have been their priority.
That first year I made a hefty profit. If I recall correctly I walked away with about $1,500 for 72 hours of fairly hard labor. Not bad for a recent high school graduate. Thanks to my friends and family, we ran one hell of an operation. Our tent was clean and organized even when there were dozens of people packed inside. Our cashiers were awesome at keeping the lines moving. (I'll bet some of them can still tell you how much a ground bloom flower [$0.06], 48 shot color pearl flower [$0.49], and red box artillery shell [$3.99] cost.) When it was all over I had handled thousands of dollars in cash and checks, and I had slept about 8 hours in two nights. Overall, the first year was awesome.
There were a couple interesting incidents that first year. There was the guy who came back with an obliterated tube from an artillery shell. He angrily insisted we were selling dangerous products. I think I handled him very well. I never once told him, "Sir, you're an idiot. You put the shell into the tube upside down." I eventually sent him home with a free replacement product and my sincerest (ha!) apologies. And then the bastard called the fire marshal on me. Once the fire marshal arrived and saw the damaged tube, he agreed with me that the man was a moron. Still, he had to take a sample product out behind the tent and launch a few test shells. It worked just fine.
Then there was the guy my dad literally threw out of the tent. I didn't see it happen, but apparently a drunk guy bumped into a "foreign" man who didn't speak English very well. (I want to say that at the time I thought the man might have been from Iraq, but I might be mis-remembering.) Drunk guy started harassing the man, who was startled and confused. My dad saw the whole thing and intervened. When it was clear that drunk guy wasn't going to be rational, my dad chucked him out of the tent, bouncer-style. Nice! I think we sent the other man home with a few free items.
A little girl left her coin purse in the tent that first year. It had a couple bucks and change inside. I felt bad for her, so I kept it around, going so far as to take it back to the tent all three years that I managed it. I never saw her again. My original plan was to give it to a "needy" child during my last year, but that year went so poorly, I forgot about it. I think I still have that coin purse somewhere.
The wind darn near killed us during my second year. It was awful. It didn't help that Sav'n Sam's used the cheapest tent vendor possible. I pleaded for help multiple times, but I got nothing. That is, until a particularly hefty gust of wind snapped one of the poles and one of the pieces whacked a woman in the side of the head. Have you ever tried to simultaneously call 911 on a cell phone in 40 mile per hour winds while evacuating customers from a collapsing tent? That was interesting. We sent all of the customers away with whatever they happened to have in their hands at the time the tent fell. The injured woman was extremely unhappy, and I don't blame her. She must have reached a settlement with Sav'n Sam's and/or the tent company because I was never called to testify or anything.
The third year really sucked. It stormed on the night of the 2nd and the 3rd, both times causing extensive damage to the product and the tent. I had a crappy new location. And the management of Sav'n Sam's was really, truly awful that year. I came very, very close to closing up shop and walking away. Needless to say, that was my last year managing a fireworks tent. Not coincidentally, it was also the last year Sav'n Sam's existed, at least in Lincoln. Ninety percent of my cynicism for fireworks was created that year.
What are your most vivid fireworks-related memories? Has anybody else out there ever managed a tent?
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I must have been about 8 at the time and I had a roman candle in my hand (I know, you’re not supposed to hold them in your hand). Anyway, my brother’s friend, Boyd, just happened to ride his bike down the alley about the time the first volley erupted from the end of the candle.
You can’t very well be holding a roman candle and not shooting at SOMETHING. When Boyd’s and my eyes met, he knew he was in trouble.
Balls of fire shot between the spokes of Boyd’s bike as he high-tailed it back up the alley. Thankfully, nobody got hurt and Boyd forgave me. I still chuckle when I think about that.
Great stuff, Mr. W. I love your politically correct usage of “lower income white people.” I think you could say “white trash.” It’s the white trash national holiday. This is Christmas, Thanksgiving, and New Year’s all rolled into one glorious day. Alcohol? Check. Heat and humidity? Check. Explosives? Check. WOO HOO. I love the 4th dearly, but it did become clear to me early on the that target market likes the explosives AND beer way too much, and together that’s a recipe for a volatile mix. I hope every one has a safe and happy day - please come back with all digits still intact!
Once as a child on the farm and under the influence of older cousins, we stumbled across an old tire pump with all of the working parts removed. We carefully unrolled tons of Black Cats and dumped the powder into the tube, mixing in several unlit firecrackers as we went along. Eventually, we determined we had enough fire power so we stuck a long piece of fuse from one of the cracker packages into the hole at the bottom of the pump where the air hose would have been. Then we set the pump on the ground and piled dirt around it to hold it upright. We lit the fuse. Pretty cool. It was like a giant fountain. Fire shot out the top and the unlit firecrackers blew out and went off in the air.
I have never really been one to buy and light my own fireworks. They’ve always seemed like a waste of money. Consequently, I’ve lit very few fireworks off myself. At first it was I was too young, and then it became I really wasn’t interested in lighting them off and then it became a plain waist of money.
I’m very content with watching people light off their fireworks and watching the pros do it. That’s where I get my enjoyment.
We’ll be gone the evening of the 4th, and our neighbors - who don’t like us much and are alcohol and fireworks loving people - have been shooting off fireworks for 4 solid days already.
I fear for my house.
I grew up in California, where the only legal things were crap-tastic snakes and (maybe) sparklers. My aunt and uncle always snuck in some illegal things- fountains, spinny doo dads, etc. It wasn’t till I moved to Nebraska that I discovered the joy of things that go boom. The first few years I spent too much on fireworks- since then, I’m content to let others buy the fireworks. I just lounge at a friend’s house, or wander the neighborhood looking for a show.
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