Last night I started dreaming fireworks.
The UK display last night was very nice, very pretty, lots of interesting new firecrackers I haven't seen before. The Russians put up a good show, and the longest yet (a full 30 minutes!), but had a different plan of attack: it was like a non-stop barrrage, a mini-war; it felt like they just threw everything they had up into the air to try and set the sky on fire. It would get so bright at times; it was lovely.
It was our first time in the proper paid admission area, and to get to it from the parking lot we were at apparently took 2 shuttles. But I think it was worth it. The fireworks seemed a lot lower last night, I don't know if that was instructed to them but seeing them up close was much better and feeling the booming explosions in the sky rattle your rib cage is more immediate and scary and exciting.
Traffic wasn't as bad, and we left the earliest we'd ever left, but we're going to leave even earlier today. Poor Le Sexy Mark Lavin watched the second display from his car.
Highlights of last night included Neva and I nearly dying from laughter listening to the first episode of The Ricky Gervais podcast while killing time waiting for the first country, and listening to Lourd De Veyra scream obscenities while watching all the families and little children walk by. I have also come to appreciate this lovely moment when the fireworks displays finally end: the crowd still quiet and expectant, wondering if it's truly the end (lots of false ends, you see, where you think it may be over but it's not), and all you hear are the car alarms going crazy in the background like banshees, different cacophonies of sound, before finally the crowd starts applauding and cheering.
And then the girls had a discussion on bras I absolutely couldn't relate to.