Pyrotechniques and Other Differences

We (and my mum!) have been visiting my sister and her family in Houston this week. It's our first time in Texas, and on the surface of it, there are a lot of similarities to Alberta - lots of people working in oil or energy support, lots of late-model pick-up trucks on the roads. But it's the differences I find most intriguing.

In the aisles of H.E.B., their biggest grocery chain, you will find an astonishing assortment of beer and wine, bilingual packaging in Spanish instead of French, and Mexican-influenced snacks that run the gamut from varieties of tortilla chips to Mexican hot chocolate-flavoured Oreo-type cookies.

The area of Harris County where Tara and Jerry live has no zoning laws as such, so you might have a well-to-do residential area next to medium or high density housing, an industrial park, or retail power centres that put Edmonton's to shame. The county provides police and schools, while Home Owners Associations determine whether or not your neighbourhood will have sidewalks and streetlamps (and not all of them do).

Flood control canals crisscross the entire city, but the most prominent evidence of the effects of Hurricane Harvey last August are the numerous signs at intersections from those willing to pay cash for houses "as-is".

Houston is really a city of convenience in many ways; there is little evidence of mass transit in Harris County despite having a population in excess of 4 million. Everyone drives so traffic congestion is a constant navigational consideration, and there are just an unbelievable number of (good) restaurants here.

The biggest difference was probably in how we celebrated New Year's Eve. Tara put together a huge meal while the rest of us watched John Wayne's The Alamo in anticipation of a quick side-trip to that shrine in San Antonio, the most popular tourist destination in all of Texas.

After a lovely supper of turkey and ham, we cleaned up, and then Jerry and I prepared to try our hand at the fireworks we'd picked up a couple days earlier.

Fireworks stands are fairly common here, as one might expect at this time of year, and are usually a trailer on the corner of another retailer's lot, or perhaps a gas station. I'd gotten my brother in law to pull up to one on our way home from dinner, and explained to the young man there that we were rank amateurs looking for something that balanced spectacle with ease of use.

He pointed us to a couple of garishly wrapped cubes, about 12 inches across, with names like Pirate's Revenge and The Devastator. He suggested the Alien Uprising thusly: "It's a single fuse, then it goes pssh...pssh...pssh, kinda slow, right, and then it builds, like, you know, an uprising."

"That sounds good to me," I said, "what about that one there?"

"The Rampage? It's great too, but it just keeps coming atcha."

"And they don't need any preparation or unwrapping or anything?" Jerry asked.

The attendant shook his head, "Nah, man, the fireworks do all the work for you. You just light the fuse and get away."

That was enough for Jerry and I, and since it was buy one get one, we took one of each as well as some firecrackers to make up the difference in price.

On New Year's Eve, firecrackers could be heard around their neighbourhood as soon as it got dark (around 5:30), and rockets were visible intermittently after about 7:00, increasing in frequency as midnight approached. We wanted to fire one box before entering the pool, and headed out to the sidewalk behind their place by the canal at about 9:30.

Everyone maintained a respectable distance while I lit the fuse with some trepidation, and quickly retreated to join them. True to our retailer's word, the first few shells went out a few seconds apart, but still went probably 50-60 feet in the air before detonating. They were soon followed by larger starbursts launched more closely together, and finally a crescendo of shells, sparklers and starbursts. The whole affair probably lasted less than a minute, but I felt that we certainly got $50 worth of entertainment out of it.

UPDATED WITH VIDEO!

We waited a while before pouring a couple of litres of water over the now shredded box, marvelling at the still smoking tubes. Someone had suggested launching from the grass closer to the canal, but the possibility of the box tipping over and launching three dozen shells and rockets laterally precluded this option.

Afterwards we got into our swimsuits. Although cool outside, Jerry had warmed their pool up to a delightful 90 degrees Fahrenheit, so as long as we stayed out of the breeze, it was quite comfortable. And the hot tub at 104 was even nicer, especially with a cold milk stout at hand.

At midnight, (actually a few seconds later thanks to a reluctant lighter) we launched the Rampage, and it also performed as expected, firing with a consistency and ferocity that was awe-inspiring.

Fireworks were visible from all around the canal, an open area perhaps 80-100 yards across, and continued at high intensity for perhaps another 20 minutes. Although the display was far more spread out, it was the equal of many civic ones I'd seen in Canada. It turns out that fireworks are difficult to be selfish with, and that the citizenry can be relied upon to celebrate in fine fashion on their own, with little to no guidance or formal organizing. Just one more difference, I suppose, and certainly a departure from what we would have been doing back home at -28 Celsius.