Happy Independence Day!

In honor of Independence Day, I felt compelled to share the story (and some photos) of our 2012 road trip to witness what was billed as one of the greatest fireworks shows in the country: the Big Bay Boom in San Diego, CA. Spoiler alert: it turned out to be the most disappointing show in the country.

We arrived in San Diego a couple days before the fourth of July. As soon as we arrived, Careese started researching various adequately star-spangled entertainment options. She found a little area of town called Old Town San Diego that had converted the town square into a colonial-themed July 4^th party. It sounded awesome, so off we went. It did not disappoint. It felt as though the entire citizenry of the town donned colonial-themed costumes. There were cake walks, square dances, stagecoach rides, face paintings, Declaration of Independence signings, and potato sack races. A Benjamin Franklin look-a-like even read the Declaration of Independence from a star-spangled-bunting-lined stage. God bless America. George Washington would have been proud of us all. Real proud.

After several hours of glorious American revelry, we headed out to San Diego Bay to ready ourselves for the fireworks show of a lifetime. We were told that there would be over 200,000 people in attendance, so we arrived several hours early to stake out a prime spot on the lawn by the shore. After a bit of roaming in the lovely San Diego weather, we found the spot we were looking for. It was perfect. We laid out our blankets along with an assortment of kid paraphernalia that had been smuggled out of the van. We spent the next few hours playing tag, duck-duck-goose, etc. This is one of the joys of having a big family. There’s built-in entertainment. You can play games that other families can’t. Well, I suppose that a small family can play duck-duck goose, head’s up 7-up, freeze tag, etc.; but the games would probably be much shorter.

At last, the sky grew dark and the growing horde of humanity began to settle down in anticipation of the coming show. The fireworks were set to go off from 4 separate barges just offshore. At last, it was time. 200,000 of our closest friends grew silent as the show began.

Four giant, balloon-shaped balls of light emerged from each barge. The balls of light remained lit for about 15 seconds. It was certainly different than any other fireworks show intro that I’d ever seen, but it was awesome. We and everyone else cheered what we all thought to be the greatest fireworks intro of all time.

Then, there was silence. Nothing happened. No fireworks. Only silence. After a few minutes had passed, the crowd began to mumble. Still nothing. Slowly, the crowds mumble started to light up with the shimmer of thousands of phone screens. Everyone was searching for the reason for the delay. Unfortunately, the mass of humanity had destroyed cell service in the area. No one could connect to the outside world. The crowd was forced to talk to each other like it was 1776. Still, no one could figure out what was happening. My hometown of Amarillo, Texas, happens to be known as one of the windiest cities in America. We are used to fireworks shows being delayed by wind or weather, but the weather in San Diego was perfect. The sky was clear. The weather couldn’t have been the problem. 30 minutes went by. Still nothing. Finally, after almost 45 minutes, someone in the crowd heard the cause of the problem on one of the local radio stations (note to any kids reading this: radio was a thing that was kind of like Spotify, but where you can’t pause it and someone else chooses the playlist for everyone). Person-by-person, the news finally made its way to our section of the grass. A technical malfunction had caused all of the fireworks to go off at once. Those balls of light we saw were the product of every single firework being ignited at the same time. That was it. The show was over. Hours of waiting culminated in a 15-second ball of flames. In case you, like me, have always wondered what it would look like if every firework purchased for a fireworks show ignited at once, here’s your answer: it forms a pretty spectacular (albeit short-lived) blaze of glory, but it’s more smoky than sparkly.

The time had come to relay the news to our children. Unfortunately, I had set myself up for disaster. You see, there’s an ill-advised and risky trick you learn as a parent when you find yourself in a situation where you need your kids to wait patiently. It’s called hype. Here’s how it works. Suppose you’re waiting for a movie to start and your children are getting restless. You see a certain look in their eyes. It’s the same look Bruce Banner gets before he transforms into The Incredible Hulk. What do you say?

“Just hang in there for a few more minutes. This movie is going to be worth it. You’re going to love it! Let me tell you what I’m most excited about. What are you most excited about?”

Then, you proceed to have a conversation about the mind-blowing greatness that is about to befall your children. This tactic can work pretty well to keep children excited while simultaneously preventing them from turning into a loud, angry mob of fit-throwing, Incredible Hulk-ish cry-sack monsters. I’m speaking hypothetically, of course.

Unfortunately, hype can backfire. Specifically, hype can backfire when the event you’ve been hyping explodes into a literal ball of flames. The greater the disappointment, the more energy for the little Hulks.

We broke the news to our kids. The event I may or may not have billed as “the greatest fireworks show of all time” was not going to happen. Our kids would not be seeing “more fireworks in the sky than you can imagine.” Instead, our kids would be seeing the inside of the van for however many hours it took to drive through the hundred thousand people’s worth of traffic that stood between us and our hotel. I braced myself for mutiny, but it didn’t come. The kids were, of course, disappointed; but, they chose instead to reflect on the day. We had played games. We had eaten an abundance of patriotic snacks. We had witnessed the simultaneous explosion of hundreds of fireworks, and no one had died—us included. All in all, it had been a truly wonderful day. The kids laughed and reminisced on the drive back to the hotel until, one by one, they all fell asleep.

That’s when I realized that my kids had a greater tolerance for disappointment than I did. Parenting can often be humbling like that. As it turned out, my kids weren’t the ones who needed the hype. I was. Our entire trip had been planned around one destination—one event that had turned out to be a bust. I had been so focused on the hyped destination that I had expected its failure to ruin the whole journey. Fortunately, my kids reminded me of a lesson we all learn in Life 101. It’s often important to shift focus away from the hype of the destination and toward the joys of the journey.