With a thumping headache, I awoke to a day of celebration in America. Independence day, we’ve all heard of it and from what I’d heard I expected a day full of fireworks and celebration.
Fireworks…just what I need with a hangover!
There was a huge celebration taking place at the Rose Bowl, but I had decided that, in my delicate condition, I was going to stay local. I expected it to be a big deal. America has a short but eventful history and I would imagine Independence Day to be their most treasured national holiday. I also thought that I may be able to blag my way into becoming guest of honour…after all, without the English, America wouldn’t have had a revolution to celebrate!
I went into Westwood Village around 8pm. It’s about a 10 minute walk. It was an uneventful 10 minutes. No fireworks, no dancing in the streets, no sign of celebration, but it was early.
I went to a bar and watched the celebrations at the Rose Bowl on the local news. That was the nearest I got to 4th July celebrations.
A couple of nice girls at the bar started talking to me and I joined them for the evening. Amongst a whole range of topics that were covered, they suggested that 4th July was not such a big deal other than a day off work and an excuse to start drinking in the afternoon.
That reminded me of every Bank Holiday back in England…the only thing missing was the rain!