Smoke-out

Yesterday the Boss and I hosted one of the largest gatherings we've ever attempted. Nearly 40 people in the back yard to celebrate the 4th of July with some food, the trampoline, bean bags, Eagles radio and good times. But what took it all to the next level, was not that this was a BBQ or Cookout - it was a Smoke-out.

What exactly is a Smoke-out? I assure you it has nothing to do with the tradition of slowly infusing meats with savory smoke hour after hour. Its the opposite. When you are trying to grill up 40 burgers, 15 bratwurst and 10 hot dogs in a matter of 20 minutes to feed a small platoon the grease from all that meat goes crazy. Plus when the wind carries all of that smoke right into your guests faces, you have a genuine Smoke-out.

The smoke got so thick I thought the back yard looked like a war movie set. But as I shouted out to the choking crowd for takers on two bratwurst I was informed I looked like I was having a Cheech & Chong "up in smoke" moment. As I stood over the grill adding cheese and removing burgers the tears literally streamed down my face. I wept on the 4th of July.

Finally I shut down the grill and enjoyed the fruit of our smoke. You know you stink at grilling when multiple people tell you "poor thing" as they see your bloodshot eyes. Shortly after we finished eating, the F-16s that I ordered did an impressive fly-by over the house. But that wasn't the end of my over-the-top performance. We then proceeded to the street for some crazy illegal suburban fireworks which I happened to pick up in Cheyenne last week during a work trip.

Its sad when the excitement of fireworks is based in whether or not they will burn down the neighbor's house or blow up a parked car in front of a crowd of witnesses. But I was determined to be a good host to the bitter end. Granted, we didn't lite up the rockets or M-150s I picked up (save those for camping), but there were a few fountains that defied gravity and had some serious explosive power. The first crackling fountain sent five of the girls screaming and running for the front porch. The kids also got a kick out of multiple smoke bombs going off at once, continuing the theme of our evening. Apparently, our fireworks were crazy enough to lure some kids out from down the street that were forbidden to have fireworks. I became a corrupter of youth and an enemy of the street.

After the show, our smoke infused friends departed and we headed over to our "Secret Spot" to watch the big fireworks show. I hate to say this, but without the music that goes with the show, 20 minutes of fireworks gets old. Maybe I'm not a true American anymore or I was just Smoked-out.