Magnificent Launching
Puncak, New year eve of 2003. My musical performance was over and it was a time for games and prizes. First game was Asereje dance competition in which groups of four or five - all of them were guest of the hotel - danced to the rhythm of the song performed by Las Ketchup girls. The audience chuckled a lot, seeing a 40-year-old father and his daughters and nieces tried their best to mimic each move of the dance, especially that funny leg gesture. After two rounds, the audience gave their vote and picked out the winner, which later received a voucher for a free 2 night stay in the hotel. Other games included blind-folds and hand-cuffs, you guess what they were.
I couldn't help but thinking how lame the party started to become. It's New Year's Eve, I reflected, we should be having fun. Suddenly outside, I heard a rather rare but familiar exploding sound. Firework time! For ten minutes I was torn between the anxiety to go outside and the obligation to stay inside, assuming that I might have to play for another singing session. After a careful consideration, I stepped out of the hall and joined the fun.
I wasn't always lucky. In one occasion I got a firework with a rather disabled fuse. I should have discarded it, knowing that it is very dangerous to play with it. Instead oh blasting off to the cold midnight air, the firework blew up in my right hand. In that split second, my whole life flashed across my mind, as if it was my final curtain. I felt a rather excrucriating pain all over my right palm, a blood rush away from my knees, and a terrible deafness. Luckily, when the green smoke faded out, I found out that nothing serious had happened. It was a tremendous paranoia which actually came over me. Another magical moment, I thought: I was saved from harm and blessed to continue my life.
After aiming for the empty sky for 10 times, I started to develop a sense of boredom. Obviously, I need other interesting target. With the support of my fellow firework players, I chose other objects which in my opinion was more interesting to aim at. First choice, the hall. I thought it was my social obligation to put a little life in that kinda lame party. To make it merrier, I shot some fireworks in a way that they would blow up some inches above the hall's roof. I tell you, measuring the distance and the angle at which they're launched really took a genius (and a daredevil). When I was lucky, the firework blew up right in the center of the hall's roof. I couldn't shoot the bull's eye in each launch. Sometimes they just blasted a few meters to the right or to the left. I might say that my worst launch was when the firework blasted atop a mercedes-benz. It belonged to the boss. Once again, nothing serious happened, and once again, I was saved from harm.
We lit other two boxes of these magnificent things. I enjoyed each second in which they flew up to the sky in a twirling motion, lost the rocket power in a certain point and blasted with various colors. Later that night, I even dreamt of them.
It's New Year's Eve, I reflected, we should be having fun.
The host was rather badly prepared, I could tell. Each time the winners proceeded to receive the prize, he asked them to dance Asereje, in group or couple.
I couldn't help but thinking how lame the party started to become. It's New Year's Eve, I reflected, we should be having fun. Suddenly outside, I heard a rather rare but familiar exploding sound. Firework time! For ten minutes I was torn between the anxiety to go outside and the obligation to stay inside, assuming that I might have to play for another singing session. After a careful consideration, I stepped out of the hall and joined the fun.
The firework flew up toward the stars in full speed.
For some times in my childhood, I played with some types of cheap sparklers and firecrakers but then despised it for their foul odor and loud sound, not to mention the danger. But at that night, it was all completely different. I could enjoy watching the show in the air. At first, I stood about fifty meters from the launching ground, but the curiosity pushed me nearer and nearer. Out of the blue, Ifelt a pat in my shoulder. It was the owner of the hotel, offering me a large red plastic bag full of Australian fireworks. I read the manual written in the back of a box. It was clearly stated that player should always be cautious when lighting the fuse. But what the heck! I looked around and I saw no one care enough to follow the instructions. So there I was, standing nervously, with my right hand stretching out holding a piece of 30 cm long firework and my left hand carefully lighting up a match to jump start the firework. I lit the fuse and within 3 seconds, the firework flew up toward the stars in full speed. Launching a firework is a magical moment that only daring people could only enjoy first-hand.
I wasn't always lucky. In one occasion I got a firework with a rather disabled fuse. I should have discarded it, knowing that it is very dangerous to play with it. Instead oh blasting off to the cold midnight air, the firework blew up in my right hand. In that split second, my whole life flashed across my mind, as if it was my final curtain. I felt a rather excrucriating pain all over my right palm, a blood rush away from my knees, and a terrible deafness. Luckily, when the green smoke faded out, I found out that nothing serious had happened. It was a tremendous paranoia which actually came over me. Another magical moment, I thought: I was saved from harm and blessed to continue my life.
After aiming for the empty sky for 10 times, I started to develop a sense of boredom. Obviously, I need other interesting target. With the support of my fellow firework players, I chose other objects which in my opinion was more interesting to aim at. First choice, the hall. I thought it was my social obligation to put a little life in that kinda lame party. To make it merrier, I shot some fireworks in a way that they would blow up some inches above the hall's roof. I tell you, measuring the distance and the angle at which they're launched really took a genius (and a daredevil). When I was lucky, the firework blew up right in the center of the hall's roof. I couldn't shoot the bull's eye in each launch. Sometimes they just blasted a few meters to the right or to the left. I might say that my worst launch was when the firework blasted atop a mercedes-benz. It belonged to the boss. Once again, nothing serious happened, and once again, I was saved from harm.
"We might give them a sense of being at home: rocket explosions.
Looking for a tougher object, I and two fellow rocket-launchers finally laid our eyes on a villa about one hundred meters behind us. "Some arabs stayed there," said one of them, "we might give them a sense of being at home: rocket explosions." I couldn't say no to that. In no time, some fireworks rocketed in a full blast toward that villa, and, within a couple of seconds, exploded some inches above the roof, with loud bang and colorful sparks. We were wondering whether the arabs enjoyed our service of hospitality. Probably they did, because they showed absolutely no sign of protest or revenge.
We lit other two boxes of these magnificent things. I enjoyed each second in which they flew up to the sky in a twirling motion, lost the rocket power in a certain point and blasted with various colors. Later that night, I even dreamt of them.
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