From Scott Alexander
I’m sure you’ve noticed the fireworks stands popping up all over the place as the 4th of July approaches, which reminds us of that horrific fireworks accident we lived through. We all have a story. Mine didn’t come until I was 20 years old since my dad barely allowed us to touch sparklers when we were kids. We talked about our experiences on the air today.
I’ll share my story after Jen explains how her brother acquired scars on the back of this head while she was babysitting him:
And Sara and her family no longer go to the beach for the 4th:
And now my boys-will-be-stupid-boys story. So I’m 20 years old and a couple of years removed from the protection of my dad and my family. I was on my own working in radio in Iowa. Hey, you have to start somewhere.
I was invited to a 4th of July lake party. And as the girlfriends sat on the hillside leading down to the lake, the boys were busy lighting bottle rockets and attempting to shoot them at each other. Real smart, right? I think I might have even started it which makes the end of the story ironic.
So I’m lighting the latest bottle rocket, grabbing the bottle and pointing it at the closet guy on the hill until I suddenly realize there is a burning feeling it my forearm. Before I know it I look down to see (and feel) a firework go off IN MY ARM. Yes, this was a bottle rocket that flies and then explodes at the end. I still have a scar in the inside of my forearm to prove that nobody deserved a shot in the arm (or another word that starts with “a”) more than me. Though I don’t expect your story to exceed my level of stupidity, what is your harrowing fireworks tale? Do tell!