Breaking Curfew with Illegal Fireworks and Other Beach Adventures

Part 3 of a summer vacation diary

Photo by Colton Duke on Unsplash

If you missed Part 1 or Part 2 of the summer vacation diary of our trip to Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina, you can find those at the links.

Again, please keep in mind that I made zero notes while we were on vacation because I was too busy living in the moment (thinking about the ethics of fireworks), and I’m writing this several weeks later because I’ve been too busy living in the moment (looking at houses online located in places that are marginally less threatened by climate change in the short term).

All that’s to say, take everything you read here with a grain of salt (and sand).

Day 5 — July 3

The clear highlight of the morning portion of Day 5 was a visit from one of my nieces who lives in North Carolina and happened to be vacationing at a nearby beach. Quite a few of my nieces and nephews live in North Carolina, but only one visited. Needless to say, she is now the favorite and I will bequeath to her in my will my Buc-ee’s plushie (the smaller one).

After some more beach time and, I think, a game of Monopoly that I won (this isn’t particularly relevant here, but I am on a bit of Monopoly heater… I’ve won quite a few games in a row if you don’t count one round of Space Jam Monopoly which technically doesn’t count because it’s not a legitimate version of the game), we made our one big dinner outing of the vacation. Poe’s Tavern was the destination.

As you might’ve guessed, Poe’s Tavern is an Edgar Allan Poe-themed restaurant featuring paintings of the man himself on the walls, lots of ravens, and Poe’s writings plastered above the urinals in the bathroom. We don’t go out to eat much as a family because we hate leaving the house, so every restaurant visit is a bit of an adventure. Michelle and I are also still getting our heads around the idea that our kids are old enough to eat at restaurants without making it miserable for us. Instead of constant motion and whining, our kids are now more than happy to sit still and complain about their food in quiet voices. Overall, the food at Poe’s Tavern was solid. My veggie burger was outstanding mainly because it was a proper veggie burger made in-house from beans and so forth instead of one of those corporate meat-like patties that is trying too hard to be something it’s not. Everyone seemed to enjoy their food except for my oldest who ordered only a plate of fries and ate about three of them. On the plus side, it was one of his more adventurous meals of the week.

Day 6 — July 4

July Fourth. Independence Day. Fireworks Day (as my kids typically call it). No matter what name you prefer, this is a day that I often feel conflicted about. Perhaps never more so than this year when Earth recorded its hottest day in recorded history while we were busy watching things explode in the sky. By the end of the night, the beach was filled with so much smoke I was half expecting allied forces to storm across the dunes. The haze and heat and gaggle of twenty-somethings trying unsuccessfully to launch a Japanese lantern definitely gave off end-of-the-world vibes.

Before the nighttime excitement, we spent some time on the beach again. It was very crowded, of course, and while I was standing with my two boys in the surf, bobbing up and down as the waves rolled around us, surrounded by tens of people who were also bobbing up and down, my 11-year-old shouted an important question to me: “HOW MANY PEOPLE DIE ON AVERAGE IN THE OCEAN PER YEAR?” I rolled my eyes and urged him to keep his voice down a little, but maybe he was onto something because enough people suddenly decided to let themselves drift away from us that we had a little more space in the water to bob around. I wasn’t sure how to answer his question, exactly, so I guessed “hundreds… probably thousands… at least until global warming ramps up even more then the average will go way up.” The fellow beachgoers drifted a little further away.

I turned to Google later in the day, but I was unable to pin down a solid ocean death toll. Search results tend to give you drowning deaths, fishing-related deaths, etc., rather than a nice neat total number for ocean deaths. Of course, I didn’t do a deep dive (ba-dum ching).

Anyway, life is for the living or whatever, so we lived it up on the Fourth: one of my kids had the time of his life wearing the patriotic hat and we also found some cool beach art and pretended that we made it.

photos by author

At night, we watched illegal fireworks from the back deck of our beach condo. Our neighbors (led by surf report guy from Part 2 and a Jesus and/or Jared Leto doppelganger) were grilling out directly below us and the smoke wafted straight up into our faces for about an hour. They apologized and we assured them that it was fine; in fact, we insisted that we loved inhaling barbecue smoke because we hate the idea of making anyone feel bad.

The fireworks display someone was putting on just south of us on the beach was very impressive. I’m assuming it was just a person who drove across the border to South Carolina and loaded up their truck with an elephant-sized haul of explosives, but maybe it was something more official? To get a closer look and to feel a little bit like criminals, my 11-year-old and I walked down to the beach during the fireworks. My oldest is at the age, which I kind of remember, where doing small things like staying up late, being outside at night amongst strangers, and getting within 150 feet of illicit pyrotechnics feels important. Like you finally understand that the world is big and weird and it’s exhilarating to be a part of it, if only for a moment. For me, that age was about 27.

We watched the rest of the fireworks from our spot beside the empty, looming lifeguard chair. My son chattered at me and pointed out exciting things like, well, fireworks and the aforementioned drunk people who almost lit themselves on fire while wrestling with a Japanese lantern. I mostly stood there, nodded, and said “yeah, that’s cool” while thinking, “yes, now this is living!”

Day 7 — July 5

After the excitement of the night before, we slept in until at least 6:15. It felt decadent, almost sinful, like dipping a French fry into a Cook Out milkshake.

Because the weather app called for a chance of rain, and we were frankly a little tired of the beach at this point, we made the forty-minute drive south to the North Carolina Aquarium at Fort Fisher. This is a local attraction that is much discussed. Not as much as the Dockside, but it’s probably the next level down. We bought our tickets online and cruised past the crowds to enter the aquarium, which is a blocky building located up on a hill.

As we entered, my 7-year-old daughter immediately complained that the place smelled like fish. Both gross and unexpected. We held our noses and wandered over to one of our first stops: a tank that was set low to the ground and didn’t have a top so anyone could reach in and strangle some squids. An older gentleman who seemed to be patrolling the aquarium in some official capacity, tasering any would-be squid stranglers, pointed at my son’s UCF shirt and asked him where the Knights were from. My son cut his eyes in my direction in a manner that clearly indicated “HELP!” so I jumped in and said, “Orlando.” The man then said, “Oh, well then, you should know exactly what to do.” I don’t know why, but this made me feel uncomfortable in a vague sort of way. Kind of like when you stand up after sitting for too long with your leg tucked up under you and your foot just feels a little off. I quickly plunged my hand into the tank and petted the coral with two fingers, as directed, to diffuse any mounting tension.

The rest of the visit was uneventful; we saw some fish, stingrays, otters, and a shark or two. The aquarium was nice enough, other than the fishy smell, but it only took us about an hour to see everything. So, if you’re planning on killing a whole afternoon here, which I definitely was, you’re out of luck. We did extend the visit by a few minutes by walking around the entire outside walking path, staring at a bald eagle for twenty seconds or so, and sweating profusely under a relentless midday sun.

photos by author

You might not believe this, but I think we might’ve had McDonald’s for dinner. Or at least the kids did. We are nothing if not adventurous when it comes to food. We’ll leave it here for Part 3 with some chicken nuggets and fries. I should be able to wrap this up with one more installment. Next time, you’ll find out if we made it home because I don’t want to leave you hanging.

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