Like a scene from a movie. Or the Bible.

Note to self: next time, bring a helicopter.

Celebrating the 4th of July in New York City is a bit like getting a rectal exam at a teaching hospital: it's always more crowded than you'd like it to be, everyone in the room gets to touch you, and your butt hurts afterward. I hear ecstasy makes both rather enjoyable, though. Dan Rather enjoyable.

The evening started off with Heather, Nicole and me going to Tortilla Flats, a John Steinbeck-inspired restaurant. Just kidding, it was tex-mex. But I guess it was more like new-tex-mex. Anyways, while there the drinks were flowing and the salsa was running and the three of us were feeling rather good. Dan Rather good.

Then, all shit broke loose. To make a log story short, I was told, "Fuck you!" and said, "OK!" and almost got arrested for throwing quarters. Keep your change, kids. It adds up.

So Heather and I watched the Macy's fireworks from the highway. Yes, the highway. The NYPD closed it for like two hours for the fireworks. And aftermath. The fireworks show put on by Macy's was the largest I've ever seen in my entire life. Six barges in the Hudson River shot fireworks into the sky, over 20 city blocks. Our vantage point was just right so that we could see all six barges. Truly spectacular.

But probably the most spectacular sight of the whole night was seeing the mass-exodus of people. Thousands of people flooded, literally flooded, every street in the mid-town area. Picture the movie "I Am Legend" when everyone and their infected mom were trying to escape Manhattan island. Only less terror and more zombies. Wait...

Heather and I survived (eventually) and made it home. The subway ride sure was fun. I rather like standing in extremely close proximity to sweaty strangers who may or may not be harboring the hantavirus and just had explosive diarrhea. Dan Rather like.

But that's New York City for you.

The bad news out of all of this is I forgot my camera. So you're just going to have to use your imagination. Shouldn't be too hard with the ecstasy.

And I'd told my Bluebonnet Award is in the mail.

Crump out.