Anyways, had a new experience last night. The Latin American abhorrence to silence has many manifestations. One of the most, well, annoying is a good word, expressions of this fear of quiet is the extremely liberal use of fireworks. Last night I was in Antigua, and was told that there would be a religious procession going past the "Hotel A Nice Place to Stay". Thinking that it would be just some fellows carrying a statue with a brass band and some priests and middle aged ladies walking behind, out I trotted with the other guests to watch. What we didn't know was the level of danger that we were all exposing ourselves to. The Virgen de Candelaria statue was being moved around town not on some sort of litter or bier, but instead on a platform erected on a mini tractor followed by a flatbed truck with a full Marimba band (featuring no less than 2 six foot long xylophones). They stopped in front of the house across the street whose residents had planned the fireworks for the evening. Those included not only the big ones that shoot up about 200 ft and then blow up, but also 3 big, well they are kinda hard to describe. Take a 10 ft pole, and then on a wheel at the top about the size of a bicycle wheel you lash a bunch of rockets aimed to shoot straight up (in theory) and another one set horizontally to stay fixed on the contraption (again, in theory) to spin it around. Then affix about 20 big firecrackers and you have an idea. These things go spinning around madly, shooting the rockets about 50 ft up to explode in beautiful purple and silver sparks. Imagine for yourself for a minute that you are towering about a foot above everyone else around you near the front of the crowd. Scratch that, you are in the first row against all better judgement. The reason you are there is because streamers have been strung over the road, and for the virgen to pass under them you have been asked to hold them up with a broom by the man paying for the fireworks show. So there you are, broom in hand, mildly flirting with the hot Japanese girl staying in the room next door when one of those pretty rockets falls over and shoots straight out and hits you square in the left asscheek. What would you do, as your vision is blasted into a field of purple and silver sparks and all you can hear is BOOMMMM!!!!? Damn right you would get the fuck out of there as quick as you could. Remember in the World Series last year when JT Snow picked up little Darren Baker to keep him from getting run over at home plate? Well the Dutch guy Sebastian did that move. Not thinking I just jumped over the little kid. At least I didn't step on him. Then comes the Toritos. No, not tortilla chips, which don't really exist down here. They are guys who make what looks like a miniature A Frame house that they lay on their shoulders that are covered in fireworks. Well, guys isn't the best term, because they are generally 12 year old boys, whose fathers look on proudly and whose mothers feverishly cross themselves 20 times before the firecrackers, sparklers and rockets explode for about ten minutes. The Toritos then charge towards the crowd to scare everybody. Works pretty well. Especially ifyou have just been shot in the ass by a rocket. Oh yeah, the Marimba band keeps playing continuously the whole time, harmonizing with the tractor engine under the virgen. I like this place. All except the frequent dangerous explosions threatening my future ability to have children. That wasn't very fun. I did save the rocket though.