The gridded scar on my knee looks gross now. While it doesn't hurt in the least, or even feel any different than when it's normal-looking, the bruise has turned a dirty green color.
I celebrated the 4th by staying in, hungover, until about 4pm. I went up north to Brooks and Kelly's place, where we grilled out, and lit off a bunch fireworks, including a couple quarter-sticks of dynamite, that left craters in the ground. After the fireworks were spent, I headed back downtown, parked the car, and made a beeline for Case Park, on the edge of the bluff, overlooking the West Bottoms and KCK.
Someone was shot and killed in Case Park, on the 4th of July, last year. Like most murders, however, it was directed and not random, so I wasn't worried in the least about my safety in the park. I was especially reassured when I started to be among throngs of people headed for the park. It was mostly young families and couples from downtown and the West Side, all come to watch the dizzying array of fireworks that there were.
Here's an interesting thought. Fireworks are expressly forbidden and illegal in Kansas City, but nobody would ever have guessed it last night. I have never seen so many fireworks being ignited at once. I could barely take phone calls. Shortly after I arrived at the Park, I got a call from Craig, who have a friend visiting from out of town. So, we went to Grinders and closed it. Then, we met Geoff down at Buzzard Beach in Westport, drank too much, and came home.