It's boring here in NH

Winters have always been a time of intense boredom around these parts. Yes, we have more than our share of things to do in the summer. But, as I suspect that it is in all seasonal communities, after the tourists go home everyting comes to a screeching halt.

No more women from strange lands looking to show a local boy just how great their town is.

No more watching jackasses see who can fluff up their chest the most after about 18 beers a piece.

No more people spending money like a drunken sailor. Hey, wait a minute! I think that I just figured out why I'm so broke all the time. Hmmm.....

Anyways, such is the time that one must amuse himself (not that way, there is always time for that). You have already read about my foray into the aeronautics industry. That is just one example of the hijinks that tend to accompany myself when there is nothing to do.

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My friend Derek used to live right on the beach (from what I hear, he's back there again). His house was located on the one small strip of sand that is still Hampton, even though it was on the Seabrook side of the Hampton River Bridge.

It was there that I spent many an exciting evening, inevitably followed up by one boring morning after another.

One day while walking back over the bridge towards Derek's house, we stopped at a convenience store that was located right before the bridge.

We used to go in there and beg the twin brother's who owned it to sell us beer. Usually with no luck, but occassionally they would want to go fishing for free, so we would work out a trade that was perfect for us. We would sneak them on the boat at zero cost to us and they would throw us a case or two for the effort. It worked out well for everyone. Well, until the time that ....nah, that'll have to wait for now.

Back to the story...

When we walked in, my eye immediately caught something that hadn't been in the store before...

Smoke Bombs!!

No, with me being the pyro that I am, this was like waving a steak in front of a hungry dog.

We immediately bought every one that they had in stock with visions of anarchy dancing in our twisted little heads.

Of course, we didn't get three feet outside the store before I had to light one up. I had to make sure that they weren't the little gay ones that hardly put out any smoke and would last only 30 seconds. Thankfully, my purchase was rewarded with a thick, quite colorful, long-lasting plume of acrid smoke.

I couldn't have been more excited.

Afterall, this was at a time when you couldn't buy fireworks on a regular basis anymore. This was the next best thing.

Now we were armed.....

(to be continued)

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