Plastic Moments #4: July 4, 2009 09:53:17PM

Asbury Park Boardwalk, Ocean Avenue, Asbury Park, NJ
(40.2191623, -74.0007582)

Gloriously blinding light, vibrant swathes of color layered over the black horizon, the ground quakes with the report of gunpowder, July the 4th and the pyrotechnic spectacle that is its ritual are spiraling upward toward a grand climax. From the outdoor lounge above the boardwalk the scene is laid out in dynamic tableau. The mass of spectators are silhouetted by the slashes of light and color that slice through the liquid black horizon above the sea. The gasp, awe and spontaneous applause of the crowd punctuates the performance with touches of reverence and nostalgia laced with the primal glee of destruction.

The Grand moment reaches its zenith as eyes shudder from frantically flickering light, ears ring with the cacophony of dozens of chaotic explosions and nasal passages fill with the thick aroma of black powder. The senses, pushed beyond their limits, begin to bleed the confusion taxes the mind of rationality and sends vibrant tremors of excitement through the body. The sensory overload reaches a pitch that is nearly unbearable.

And then it all abruptly ends. There is a moment of overwhelmed silence as thick smoke drifts back from the water's edge over the appreciative spectators standing along the boardwalk, eyes fixed up at the sky. A few small fires are seen burning themselves out along the beach. Applause erupts from the beach, the boardwalk and surrounding area. Somewhere beyond the smoke the unseen pyrotechnicians must be proud.

The applause and smoke dissipate as awe struck silence gives way to conversational chatter and the crowd begins to disperse. But peculiar outbursts begin to rise from those onlookers who have been caught staring listlessly out to sea. The orderly exit is cut short as individuals stop in their places and look about in confusion. The half dispersed crowd begins to ripple with a flurry of shouting, pointing and frantic gestures toward the sky.

Following outstretched fingers one finds an otherworldly sight emerging from the smoke. A massive vertical swathe of black sky has seemingly been torn away and in its place daylight shows through. While the rest of the heavens remain impenetrably black, between the uneven edges of this striking tear a sky of peculiar pink glows with the light of a violet sun and waters of luminous turquoise mingle with the ebony ocean. A flock of iridescent birds, feathers brushed with hues of crimson, bronze and violet, fly across the threshold of the bizarre day-lit dimension and into our night shrouded reality leaving trails of startling color across the horizon as they glide.

The initial panic of the crowd dies down quickly, settling into a peculiar peace that can o found only beyond shock and fear. Every single onlooker is still, neck craning, eyes straining, transfixed. Not knowing what else to do I go back to the bar for another round of drinks.