One of the shells hit her knee. She described it as a rock hitting her, which seemed appropriate given that her little nephew was tossing rocks. However, the tirade of sparks that exploded to the left of us solved the mystery. We then proceeded to see colors explode all around us. There was at least one funny moment as I reminisce: one of the girls that was with us tried to run in the opposite direction, with her purse held behind her rear as she squatted over to protect herself. Imagine the mental image of a girl trying to defend herself from an onslaught of bombs with her purse.
My reaction surprised even me. I just sat in the chair calmly, not reacting to what was going on. I wasn't sure what to think at the time, because my first thought was, "Oh, its just this one that mis-fired." As more and more shot out, I didn't know whether to run or stand still. I didn't start to worry till after the firework was done. I wish that somehow, the back of my mind, I had thought to dive behind the chairs and protect myself and the others. I'm too calm; I don't react really rashly to anything.
My wife's knee had a massive red spot where the firework singed her, but she healed just fine.
Fireworks can be fun, but I never thought that I would feel the fear of a mortar barrage while watching them.
