The 4th was pretty much what I expected, that is to say it was unexpectedly peaceful and low-key, despite the feelings holidays like the 4th engender in me. I’m still the kind of person who likes to wake up early on holidays just because they are rare enough to be worth less sleep. I hadn’t slept much in the previous twenty-four hours, but I wasn’t about to let that ruin my Independence Day, what with all the partying and drinking and getting rowdy that I’m obligated to do as a card carrying American on this holiest of declarative holidays.
We had started planning for a cookout the night before, purchasing enough meat to feed the country of Luxembourg, and calling six to eight of our closest friends for what we envisioned would be a small gathering, with intimate conversation being carried far into the night.
It became clear that this would not be the case as we began adding up the numbers. Apparently eight plus ten doesn’t equal twelve, as I had originally calculated, but still, eighteen isn’t a bad number to top off at. After all, it is the age of legality here in this great country of ours, not to mention the favourite number of Napoleon Bonaparte, who nearly conquered a few unnamed lands (American not included, thank you very much). However, I became slightly concerned when I started receiving calls from strange voices I did not recognize, asking me where the brew was.
I’m the kind of person who would rather save face and look foolish than ask what someone’s name is once they’ve told me once. I’m slightly Japanese in that respect. Anyway, I got a name that had an “Ah” sound, like Rob, or Scott, or John, or Bonny Prince Charley, and they sounded harmless, so I told them where we were and hoped for the best.
Meanwhile, people started to show up around 5:15 and from that point on, my memory just shows one text file filled up with lots of ones and zeroes. I’m pretty sure I stayed in the kitchen the entire time, cooking and heating things and organizing foods and drinking Guinness (thanks Jeff!) and directing traffic and attempting to feed myself with the occasional snacking bite, but it’s all quite a blur.
One thing I am sure of, is we had an unofficial headcount of 27, which was double our intended target party size. Thankfully, people had brought side dishes, and the entire affair was successfully lubricated with a steady supply of beer (thanks Jeff!), white wine, and soda, which I somehow missed out on until the very end. I missed my chance to consume my requisite two burger minimum, but did partake in a beer-soaked brat that surely would have had the German mercenaries who fought for the British defecting to our side had they but been given the chance.
Later, we all went up to the rooftop to enjoy some rather distant fireworks, which was a paltry end to a great party–some might even consider it the greatest party this city has ever seen or known about. I prefer to think of it in simpler terms: sweet. So we celebrated our independence in true American fashion; blunderingly organized, overindulgent, and to excess. It was a winning combination, which is why we are still the greatest country on earth.
Except for Luxembourg. Those guys rock. And I never found out who the mystery guest was. I’m betting it was Tom Cruise in disguise.