Has everybody successfully dragged their beer-soaked, fuzzy-mouthed, hazy-eyed selves to work this morning after the Freedom Festivities yesterday? Yeah, me either. My Fourth was typical of many similar afternoons around this great country of ours: Beer, meat, fireworks, music, Flip Cup.
Despite the fact that the sun never quite made it to the party (really, sun? We couldn't rally for one afternoon out of the year when you're essentially the guest of honor? What is this, San Francisco?!), we still managed to let freedom ring with watermelon, Springsteen, and a Costco-sized bag of Solo cups. After the sun went down, we schlepped to the beach to watch the fireworks explode over the Queen Mary. I love this particular part of the Fourth because it finds the locus of national pride in Long Beach residents. There is nothing Long Beach residents love more than living in Long Beach. You might think you love your city, but trust me: the face of a resident beams ever brighter for Long Beach. The streets are choked with pedestrians making their way to and from the coastline, street dogs sizzle on the corner of Junipero and Ocean, appreciative Oohs and Aahs ripple through the crowd while the fireworks display shimmers in the distance. Afterward, we head back home, get another drink, and enjoy the efforts of amateur fireworks enthusiasts around the neighborhood.
All in all, I love my country; but I really love Long Beach.