The fireworks display started out the same way it does every year: with Walk Like an Egyptian playing for the crowd. I suggested Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina as a suitable replacement.

There was the obligatory ostensibly-drunk guy behind us and across the street, who would cheer loudly at the pathetic single fireworks. He would later burst into a round of America the Beautiful, which prompted me to coin a new term on the spot: Uncore. This is to be shouted when, after a performance, you wish that the person/group would take that song (or what have you) back and never perform it again.

Care, of course, must be taken to not confuse the performer(s) into thinking you were shouting encore.

One particular firework resembled a certain electron cloud formation, which prompted Brian (on the second showing of this firework) to shout out WOOOOO! P orbital! The crowd’s reaction was pretty much nonexistent, though the guy to my right (who earlier had supplied me with a sparkler that I used to ruin Brian’s night vision) wondered aloud—as a means of acknowedgement—how Brian was sure it wasn’t a D or N orbital.

After the display (which was enjoyable, as always) we joined the hordes of people to block traffic temporarily. On the trip, we passed a guy on the ground clutching his eye (the police were already there, so we kept moving), which killed the mood a bit. People: the Fourth is all about burning everything except yourself or others.

We then ran into Scott and Carmen—old high-school classmates—which lightened the mood again. Scott’s going to work for Intel, and Carmen’s suffering from (alleged) 100 degree temperatures paired with 100 percent humidity in Florida.