Worst Fourth of July. Ever.

The plan seemed simple: go to Centennial Park and watch the fireworks. Make fun of people walking by (but quietly enough as to not get beat up). Eat carnie food.

• Go to Centennial: check.
• Eat carnie food: check.
• Make fun of people: check check.

Centennial Park was clearly not in our demographic. I couldn't tell the people with platinum teeth and the long t-shirts from the celebrities with platinum teeth and long t-shirts. I probably saw 4 celebrities and never even knew it. The fact that Blessid Union of Souls was scheduled to play before the fireworks had me giggling. It's their first gig in, what, 7 years? The crowd is going to boo them off the stage. I belted out off-key to Erin, "I believe love is the answer/ I believe love will find a way," while reaching out to her in my obvious need of tender love and feeling before falling over in giggles.

I had already been searched and the police had already corralled the kids out of the reflection pool in the center of the park. We were sitting comfortably on the grass. The heat had died when the grey clouds covered the sky. They looked serious, but not formidable.

"I think if it was going to rain, it would have done so by now," I mused with my nose to the sky. It had always rained a little on the Fourth of July for as long as I remembered. My mother said that this was always a blessing because if any fireworks went astray, everything would be too wet to catch on fire.

Carnie food consumed, we were thirsty and looking for a bathroom. A clean bathroom. We surveyed the surrounding buildings and decided which ones would most likely let us in. We settled on CNN. They're always open-- CNN is always broadcasting. Erin and her friend waited in line for the bathroom while I waited in line for the drinks. The trip took longer than I thought. A concern was growing inside of me. We were inside too long, the grey clouds hadn't passed yet, and I was probably missing my song. As we approached the front door to leave the building, my foreboding increased. "If it's raining, I'm waiting it out in here," I informed them.

It looked like the front doors exploded. People were running in, screaming, and falling down. The lobby of CNN was instantly packed. Security guards appeared out of nowhere. It was pure chaos. Outside the trees were giving in to the wind. Lightning took the place of firecrackers.

We didn't know what to do and we were scared at the chaos. I don't like large crowds. The deafening screams made it worse. Children were crying. Missing shoes littered the wet floor where one woman wrung out her shirt. We found a small group of presumed college students huddling against the CNN sign against the wall and we went and huddled with them. I'm sure we looked ridiculous. 7 white people looking frightened in front of the giant red CNN letters while havoc surrounded them. I would have laughed at the sight had I not been apart of it. I felt the need to call my parents and let them know I was in the midst of the most ghetto moment of my life. The security guards kicked a few men out of the building, escorting them out into the storm. We never saw them or the security guards again. We were wallflowers in the midst of anarchy. "Next year we're going to Lenox," I muttered.

The storm would not let up. Blessid Union of Souls would never perform. The fireworks would not be lit. The blanket and chairs we were sitting on were now official donations to the homeless; there was no way we were going back into the park to get them. Some tired of waiting in the building and braved the storm. Children had settled into wet whimpers. The college kids disappeared. Missing shoes multiplied. When the rain settled into a light pattern, we too left the building and tried to find the car. Streets were gridlocked and some were even flooded. The only light in the sky was the lightning, which had still not left.

Erin's phone rang, "What? The trains aren't coming in?" My chin fell to my chest. This was not good news. The MARTA station had flooded and everyone that took the train in to Centennial could not get back. "Of course, we'll come and get you," I heard her say.

We climbed into her Civic. "There were four of them, right?" I asked. That made 7 wet girls. Instead of heading away from the park, we had to drive right to it to get the girls. Traffic was not moving and fire trucks and ambulances had nowhere to go, they just sat on their horns, similar to me when traffic pisses me off.

It was now 10 PM. We left to go to the bathroom at 8 PM. Erin flashed her lights when we saw the girls walk down the sidewalk. They opened the door and began cramming themselves into the backseat like squeezing sausage into its casings. A girl on the phone with her boyfriend sat on my lap; I have never spoken to her in my life. Everyone leans to me while one tries to shut the door. It took several attempts before she was successful. There was no room for my arms and I had to rest them behind the headrest.

Thank God for living in the city. I was the first one out. I swiped my card at the gate and entered, still limping from the weight that was on my leg. It was only then I thought, Omigod, my ceiling. I unlocked my door and ran into the kitchen without even greeting Nikita. There was now a perpendicular hole to the one already there. When they were inspecting my apartment, they moved one of my buckets and the carpet and towel was soaking while the bucket was dry. Plaster was in the carpet.

I heard it. A firecracker. I ran barefoot to my balcony and took a picture of the only firecracker I would see this Fourth of July. I returned, wrung out the towel before replacing it on the carpet, aligned the bucket with the second hole, and then I went to bed, grateful that I had work in the morning.