|The moon over the Charles, before the fireworks.|
The Babe can admit this...it's possible that I cry during fireworks displays. Copiously. Like a small girl. And that's just for ordinary fireworks. Boston is the grand-daddy, the opus magnus of fireworks. And Bostonians take the holiday seriously! Thousands of people descend on the Charles to listen to the Boston Pop's free concert and then wait for 10:30 to roll around for a half hour of fireworks that light up the Charles and the Boston Skyline. Being just a tad on the sneaky side, I waited until about 9:30 to worm my way into the crowd, where some people had been staking out their seats since this morning. And then, whammo!
What a glorious cacophony of high-grade explosives lobbing into the air! It was like the best rock concert of all time. As for my penchant to sob uncontrollably during patriotic explosions, it turned out I didn't need to feel funny, because about five minutes in to the show, a freak downpour of rain absolutely soaked one and all by the river. If the Babe was crying, nobody would've known!
And then when it was over, I jointed about ten thousand Bostonians in a mad sprint to make it back to the T stop before it was swarmed with people trying to get home. Miss fleet-o-foot made it onto the first train out of Kendall (way-hay!) and scurried home to post these images for you. Happy Birthday, America, and Happy Fourth of July from Boston!