Get Out! GAY Magazine – Issue 374 – July 4, 2018

BY IAN-MICHAEL BERGERON
@ianmichaelinwonderland
Fireworks and the City
I was never really into The Fourth of July
until I moved to New York City.
It’s not that I don’t have good memories
of Fourth of Julys past. I remember being
young, maybe third grade, and sitting
in the back of my dad’s truck with him,
watching the fireworks ignite and trickle
away, vanishing into the stars. We were
right by a lake, and I was freezing in
shorts and a sweatshirt, but I saw a movie
with a cheerleader in a uniform skirt and
hoodie, and I wanted to channel that
look. (I think third grade me pulled it off.)
Another time, in sixth or seventh grade,
I went to watch them with my mom
and stepdad. I don’t really remember
anything other than the fact that we went,
but the three of us didn’t do a ton of
things together back then, and it meant a
lot to my mom. That made me happy.
But fireworks in the city—that’s where it’s
at. Something about the colorful sparks
flying just above an outline of the city’s
tallest buildings... I find it so romantic.
Two years ago for the 4th, I went to a
friend’s rooftop in Brooklyn with AJ, my
boyfriend at the time. We hadn’t been
dating long, but the “honeymoon phase”
was as good as over.
We stayed on the rooftop for all of 10
minutes. A light rain slowly soaking us,
and when a single firework went off in
the distance, we realized we could barely
see it. Defeated and wet, we retreated
downstairs, me entirely unaware that rain
on the Fourth of July was an omen for my
relationship.
Last year was a much better experience.
I got together with some friends at one
of my best friend V’s apartment. She lives
on the 25th floor of an apartment on 25th
Street, and had a perfect view.
We all sat on her bed, drinking
champagne and pointing out our favorite
designs before they dissipated. My
favorite is always the finale, when 20
fireworks are going off at once and you
have no idea where to look, your gaze
darting back and forth so you don’t miss
anything. But of course you do—it’s
impossible to see everything at once.
Sitting there, drinking too much
champagne and taking shitty photos
with my phone, I realized that the best
part of any holiday isn’t really the holiday
itself, or whatever event occurs on said
holiday; it’s all about the opportunity
to get together with friends and make
memories. I don’t remember any specific
firework, but I do remember sitting
next to my dad, pretending to be a
cheerleader; I remember making my
mom happy; I remember realizing how
lucky I am to have such a close group of
friends to sit and drink with.
PHOTO BY STEVE BRENNAN
I don’t know exactly what I’m going to
do this year, but I hope I remember the
feeling of being with people I love. I
hope I make some good memories.