FireworksIt’s legit… At a mere 28 years old, I have just officially earned the rank of Crotchety Old Man. This has probably been a long time in coming, but as of about 20 minutes ago, my promotion has been signed, sealed and delivered.

So, yesterday (really 2 days ago as of right now, but let’s stick with ‘yesterday’) was the 4th of July, correct? Okay, just wanted to make sure. Anyway, last night we drove down to Wood Street and parked along side Groesbeck Golf Course to watch the Lansing fireworks (I gave them a C-, by the way). After the (lame) finale, we headed home. We crawled into bed at about 11:30, leaving most of our windows opened up to the evening’s cool air, so we could finally get our non-air conditioned house below 90 degrees. Megan crashed and I dug into my new John C. Wright sci-fi novel, Phoenix Exultant.

Almost right at midnight, several small, but not so quiet fireworks started going off. Whistlers, standard bottle rockets, black cats, etc. I had absolutely no problem with that. It was Independence Day! The proudest holiday American’s have all to themselves! How could I be upset for someone wanting to celebrate that, abeit a little late? They quit after about 20 minutes or so. Megan went back to sleep and I kept on reading till almost 1:00. No harm, no foul. Happy 4th of July!!

Now, fast forward nearly 24 hours from that point… Tonight, Megan was exhausted- not to mention she hasn’t felt swell for about 2 weeks- so she went to bed at 10:30. I stayed in the basement for a bit, then came upstairs to do some reading. Midnight comes around, and what d’ya know? Yep. The fireworks return.

I went to the “reading room” a little after they started, thinking they’d be over shortly. When I finished my “reading session”, it was past 12:30 and the obnoxious pyrotechnics we’re still going strong. Same repitoire of rockets, whistlers and such, but now it had gone too far. It’s a day late (2 even!), I’ve got a sick wife trying to sleep, it’s soon to be 1:00 in the morning and I really don’t like people being so blatantly disrespectful of others on a non-holiday weekday. So, naturally, I went outside and hopped in the car to start my manhunt!

I was almost positive “they” were at Post Oak Elementary School, just a couple hundred yards from the house. I took a roundabout way to the next block to mask my point of origin. As I drove past the playground, I spotted a single kid holding a bottle rocket in his hand. He froze like a statue to watch me slowly drive by. Knowing full well that wasn’t really going to do the trick. I pulled the car into the parking lot and turned the brights on him.

He winced as my halogen lanterns spewed 100,000 candelas into his eyes. He knew he was busted. The kid walked around in his little spot on the playground for a bit and gave me some squinty-eyed, defiant looks, hoping I’d leave. He obviously didn’t realize he was dealing with a stubborn Swede tonight. It was then that I noticed the jungle gym equipment he had walked behind was concealing yet another set of legs. Of course! There had to be an accomplice! That level of dliquency surely has to be shared with someone.

The dynamic duo lit off one last rocket as their way of giving me the finger, I suppose. It didn’t matter. Their fun was already done. They started walking off the playground and headed up the sidwalk. The kid I originally saw seemed like he could have been 13 or 14, but the second one barely looked 11. He was tiny!

I pivoted the car a few times so as to keep the high beams on them. I figured it was best to keep them from really being able to see the car, and I definitely didn’t want them catching my license plate. Plus, I wanted to keep them paranoid about the creepy guy in the car, watching them. They went past the parking lot and hit the corner. As soon as they made the turn, they started to run. For an added bonus, I hit the gas a little to make it seem as if I was going to chase. In the five seconds it took for me to reach the end of the lot and look down the street, they were gone. Mission accomplished.

I turned the “wrong way” and headed out to Lake Lansing Road, the main drag by our house. I killed some time cruising around and stopped at the Speedway to grab a donut to replace all the energy (aka, fat cells) I burned in the adreneline rush of the now surreal event. What a night this had become!

As I got back in the car to head home, it dawned on me that I had now truly become a crotchety old man. While I still stand behind their disrespectfulness, in their little pea brains, those kids probably thought they were just experiencing some living on the edge excitement with fireworks. They didn’t realize it was so late. They didn’t know how noisy it was. They didn’t remember they had done the same exact thing at the same exact time the night before. They were only having fun. I had taken that away from them. A portion of their childhood was robbed from them.. and possibly also a clean pair of shorts the way they were running!

But was I really being crotchety? Maybe that’s just how later, wannabe-mature-mostly-but-not-always 20-somethings are supposed to have their fun. I wonder…

In any case, the donut’s gone, so I must sleep now. In peace. And quiet.