Me and my sunburn are lying in front of the box fan, nursing a beer and reminiscing on a July 4th so awesome it feels like a dream.
I’m part of a friend group that goes back to high school (for some of us, grade school). We’ve scattered to the far corners of the country and back again, so over the past decade even partial reunions have been a rare and treasured thing.
Last weekend the fates aligned and four of us (+partners, +Samson) converged at Meg’s apartment in Atlantic City. We leapt into saltwater waves, passed out on beach blankets, ate pizza with clam sauce, drank beers in the backyard, and referenced inside jokes that pre-date Y2K. What makes old friendships so validating?
Then yesterday afternoon I had to make a tough call: leave town at a reasonable hour and miss friends and fireworks, or stay for fireworks and get up at 3am for a 6 hour pre-dawn drive to work.
I consulted Samson, still recovering on the couch from a 48 hr. bender with all-you-can-eat-casino-buffets and blackjack. He’s always been the sort to push all the chips on the table, so we did our last night up right.
I took these with my new Lumix, set to 3200 ISO and +2/3 exposure.