It was a war zone in the 600 block of Marlboro Avenue on Saturday night.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, KABOOM.
Turned up the volume on the big screen in an attempt to drown out the full scale fire fight. BOOOOOM.
“I’m calling the cops,” I told my wife as 10:30 p.m. rolled around. “I’m gonna do it.”
Bride: “That’s not gonna do any good,” the intelligent one said in a matter of fact way as she tried to comfort our old, wide-eyed dog that suddenly couldn’t find a place to settle and simply refused to go outside in the “rocket’s red glare” to do his business.
“So much for Stan Allen’s press release that he put out,” the wise one said.
Stan Allen, Chief of Police of the East Ridge Police Department, had dutifully put out a press release early last week reminding the good residents of East Ridge that it is illegal to set off fireworks in the City of East Ridge. Someone who does that is subject to a citation.
That very press release ran as the “featured story” on East Ridge News Online all week long. Did it do any good? You kiddin’ me!
It’s a joke. Tell me this; why would a city lobby the state legislature to enact a law that makes it legal to SELL fireworks inside the city limit then enact an ordinance making it illegal to set off said fireworks? Doesn’t make any sense, does it?
Look, I’m an old man and subject to becoming irritated at any number of dumb moves. But, I’m young enough to remember the fun I had with some firecrackers when I was a kid. I get it. It’s fun to blow stuff up, right?
I can tolerate the EXPLOSIONS … for a time. Then, after hours and hours of this non-stop nonsense it all just becomes too much.
Ok, so I reconsidered calling the cops, right? They got other stuff to do. I can see it now: The officer rolls up gets out of the car and gives me the professionalism that I expect from our men and women in blue. He would explain that he would go and tell the people to put up the pyrotechnics. They would comply until the taillights of the Chrysler police cruiser was out of sight then the cease fire would abruptly end.
I’ve come to the conclusion that many, many, many of my fellow Pioneers who live here have no respect for their neighbors. If they want to shoot fire works at midnight and beyond, they are gonna do just that. Screw everybody else who it might profoundly disturb – the little old lady trying to comfort her neurotic chihuahua; the Gulf War vet who has one nerve left; the young, sleep-deprived mother trying to comfort the panicked toddler.
It’s all about MY pursuit of happiness, the deranged rocketeers conclude. Some of those people, I suspect, are the same ones that toss their Bojangle’s boxes full of chicken bones out onto Marlboro for my old dog to choke on when we walk in the morning.
They may be the same inconsiderate folk who leave their damn shopping carts in the middle of the parking spot at Food Lion. (This one is for you, Wanda).
I bet they are the ones who leave their garbage cans out to the street 24-7; park their campers in the knee-high grass of their front yard; AND, don’t wear their COVID-19 masks when they go get their 12-pack of PBR at Mack’s.
OK, I’ve done it. That’s enough venting. I know I’ve gone a little overboard here, but, I feel better. That’s what it’s all about, right?
Now, I’m gonna prepare myself for July 5 and the long night ahead of unabated fireworks.
God Bless America!