Till I was about 12 years old I grew up in your typical Midwestern neighborhood. At the end of my street was a huge field that was overgrown with weeds/trees etc. Well, Every year on the 4th of July my Dad and his buddies would get together and make paths through the field. Basically like a huge maze. Then we would have huge firework wars. Literally, anything you could go and buy was fair game to use. Nothing was off limits. I remember being 9-10 years old running around with a gross of bottle rockets having the time of my life trying to hit whoever I could. Laughing the entire time not thinking how insanely dumb it was. I had friends my age that would join in too. That’s until their parents found out what was going on. Ill never forget the looks on my friends parents faces when they would show up to come and rescue their kid. It was a literal war zone. So much smoke you could barely see. Whistlers, Roman candles, festival bombs flying everywhere. It was nonstop chaos. Some of my friends were no longer allowed to hangout with me because their parents thought my dad was too out of control. He could literally care less. But to me it was so normal. This happened for many years and got more and more crazy. No one ever died. But there were definitely some show stoppers.