Spicy Quinnchi!: Working the fire on the 4th of July

America. Man do I miss it sometimes. The family, the friends, the holidays, the food, the excess. Unfortunately I've had to spend 2 out the last 3 Fourth of July's outside of the U S of A (although Argentina and Korea ain't shabby places to be I suppose). Last year I was at the Dave at Alpine concert, which is a tough act to follow. This year I was fortunate enough to spend the 4th at.....work. Because of the different time zones the 4th fell on a Monday here in Korea (No? Timezones don't work like that?). Work day as usual for us migug's ('American' in Korean). This actually isn't that unusual for me though. I'm usually putting the work in 'fireworks'. In my teenage years I was bartending on the 4th at Geneva National, so any 4th to celebrate is a bonus.

After hours of gchatting my parents about how awesome the fireworks are up at Lake Redstone, playing a word game challenge with my boys at school, and watching the NYPD blow up confiscated fireworks...

...I headed home to spend the 4th having a picnic along our river in Yatap with Julie (I want to make a pun with July and Julie but just can't think of a good one right now). Anyways, we ate Julie's delicious potato salad, grilled some beef (thanks again Greg), and popped cherry tomatoes while trying not to get eaten alive by mosquitoes. Once it got dark, we tried to light off some fireworks. Let' just say, we're thankful this post doesn't have a link to a news story about a couple of waygooks ('foreigners' in Korean) getting arrested for burning down Yatap. You could have called me Lisbeth Salander the way I was playing with fire. Ok, let's rewind.

Me: Julie let's light this one (a Roman candle).
J: Ok be careful.
Me: Careful is my middle name.
J:.....

The second I light the sucker, it intermittently shot out balls of fire! Who knew?! A firework?! Feeling as if I'm driving a speeding car into a parade without any breaks, I tried to point the destructive firestick in the best possible direction. Straight above me, thick trees, boom wildfire. To my right, a guy sleeping on a bench, boom homicide. To my left, plants, boom wildfire. Behind me, people walking along the river, boom genocide. In front of me, cars, boom arson. SOMEHOW, the fireballs didn't hit anyone (albeit close), start any fires, OR draw the attention of any police. With my heart attempting to bruise my ribs and the mosquitoes trying to locate them beneath my skin, it seemed like a good time to get out of there. Here are some photos I took before nearly putting the fire in "Quinn, you're fired."