Arresting Development

Arresting Development

Back one summer in the mid-1990’s, I spent the Fourth of July weekend in Utah. Joining us that year was my nephew Alex, who must have been in high school at the time. We had taken a side trip to Fort Bridger, Wyoming where I had stopped at a roadside fireworks emporium and bought some seemingly harmless fireworks to shoot off in celebration of Independence Day. When the day came and it was time to shoot them off, I concluded that our hillside condo, surrounded by a thick alpine forrest would probably not be the best place to do that, so I trundled the kids up in the car and we went down to the Lower Deer Valley parking lots that sat next to a little manmade lake. Since it was summer, the parking lots were empty and that seemed the perfect place since there was water nearby and lots of open space. I parked the car and unloaded the ordinance and began to shoot off a few bottle rockets and whatnot. It was pretty harmless stuff, but in the wide open western dusk, it was still a nice display of pyrotechnics. Those lots are surrounded by relatively expensive condos that can probably call themselves ski-in-ski-out since they were at the base of the mountain and had easy access to the Deer Valley ski slopes. As was always the case, they were somewhat but lightly populated for the summer months as some people had discovered the pleasures of Park City during the summer, but still mostly used their condos only for winter ski season.

Park City had just begun its campaign to become a year-round resort town and early-stage retirement community and had quietly spawned the saying that Park City was a place where you came for the winters, but stayed for the summers. I figured it was a fun thing that the people in the surrounding condos got to enjoy a free fireworks display, even if it was a small amateur hour event. That’s when the Park City police car rolled into the parking lot right after I launched some Roman candle or bottle rocket, and then they hit their lights and siren. The police officer got on his built-in bullhorn and told me to cease and desist and that the children should immediately get into the car. I was surprised to say the least, but immediately complied and told the kids (Roger, Carolyn and Alex) to get in the car. The policeman then got out of his car and, with hand on gun butt, approached me and told me to get up against the car and put my hands on it and spread my feet. I thought this was a joke, but I went through the motions nonetheless. The cop approached me from behind and just like they do on those cop shows, he patted me down for a weapon and put my hands behind my back, wherein he handcuffed me to my shock and my children’s awe.

That’s when I saw nephew Alex pull out his cell phone. He was dialing his friend back in San Diego telling him how cool it was that his uncle was getting arrested right in front of his eyes. There is nothing quite like knowing that you are setting a fine example for your children and young relatives. Meanwhile, the policeman had turned me around and was asking me if I realized that Utah was experiencing its seventh annual drought and that the entire state was one big tinderbox waiting for a match to light it. I explained that I was somewhat aware of that fact and then feebly tried to justify myself by saying that is why I chose a spot next to a lake to shoot off the fireworks. He looked at me askance as though to say, “nice try, buddy”.

I then got my footing and tried another tack. I said that because I had been able to buy these fireworks just a few miles up the road, I thought that meant that they were safe and legal to shoot off. Again he gave me that all-knowing stare as though I should know better. He explained that I had probably bought the fireworks in Wyoming and that they were illegal in Utah. He explained that one of the surrounding condo owners had called the police department to complain about my setting off fireworks. I said I didn’t know and he questioned whether it had occurred to me that the fireworks resellers positioned themselves on the border with Utah for a reason. I could see that the the ignorance excuse would get me nowhere, so I threw myself on the mercy of the court. I said I was just vacationing here with my family and that I had meant no harm. I was very sorry and I should have known better. Finally, that tack bore some fruit as the officer unlocked the handcuffs, having heard from his dispatcher that there were no warrants out for my arrest. He said he would let me off with a warning but that he would have to confiscate all the offending fireworks. I readily agreed to the plea bargain.

As the officer sorted through my stack of fireworks, he described each one and just how dangerous they were and that I was lucky I still had all ten of my fingers. It seems that 95% of what I had bought was illegal in Utah. He left me with a few sidewalk worms that are so mild and uninteresting to set off that I hadn’t even planned to use them. They had come in a package with some other more interesting things. As he drove away and I got in the car, the kids exploded with questions and comments all of which displayed their amazement that I had gotten myself into such hot water with the police and how they were sure I was going to get arrested. After quieting them down, I slowly exited the parking lot and glanced up at the nearby condo building, seeing an older couple sitting on their terrace glaring at me in approbation. They had probably been the ones who rated me out, but I was more embarrassed by that than they were by that point. I had learned my lesson.

Last year during our July 4th celebration in Ithaca, my daughter Carolyn had bought sparklers for the girls to light and twirl around with in the back yard, dancing among the fireflies and around a small fire pit bonfire where we could light them. This year as we were driving back from our overnight in the Poconos, I specifically remembered to stop in Pennsylvania, near the border, at a large fireworks emporium, ostensibly to buy sparklers. The store was as large as a Home Depot and it was filled with every type and caliber of fireworks that existed. I had no idea what to buy so I wandered around a ended up buying $100 worth of sparklers and assorted fireworks packs that had Roman candles and sparklers. I was careful to steer clear of the firecrackers and things like the M-80 type bombs and such.

I made sure to read all the instruction labels when we got back to Ithaca and learned that the safe and proper way to use a Roman candle is to bury it up to six inches in the ground. I found a metal stake and sledge hammer and proceeded to drive 36 holes into the back yard with a high degree of precision. I always thought a Roman candle shot upwards for 6-8 feet in a sort of shower of sparks. When I lit one as a trial I learned that they shoot fireworks into the air about thirty feet and worked sort of like a mini fireworks display ala Grucci. After dark, I started setting them off one by one and thought they were both very manageable and made a nice visual display.

Fifteen minutes in, some guy who was either walking by or driving by started yelling at us, saying that we were breaking the law. He was heard calling in our location to the police and then yelled that we were committing a Class Four Felony by shooting off illegal fireworks. Rather than risk another encounter with the law, we immediately ceased and desisted and Thomas disposed of all the Roman candle evidence. We figured the sparklers were OK. This morning I looked it up and even sparklers are considered fireworks and are illegal in New York State. Roman candles are considered in a worse category called Dangerous Fireworks and while sparklers constitute a Class B Misdemeanor, setting off the Roman candles is technically a Class E Felony. I do not know what a Class Four Felony since E is the fifth letter of the alphabet. The point is, I could go to jail for up to 15 days just for possessing the damn stuff.

I seem to have averted the crisis this time since no police car came by last night. Today I will destroy the offending pyrotechnics and never try to do any of this again. Getting hauled off to jail in front of your grandchildren is one degree worse than having that happen in front of your kids and nephew. I am proud to say that I am evolving and arresting my fireworks development any further.