...water-ski skills, fireworks skills...

Saturday
Time for one of my seasonal visits to the land where I was raised, the Redneck Riviera. Hoping to avoid holiday traffic, I left after dark on Saturday. I arrived in Panama City about 6am on Sunday. A few things delayed my journey:
1) Flat tire - luckily this was before I left, and I live close to the tire center. Chunk of glass removed, tire patched.
2) Baby bird - fell into my fireplace while I was packing. I took him to an emergency vet center on the way out of town. Must be a nest in the chimney. Great.
3) Sleep - I stopped for some shut-eye at the rest stop on I-10 near Lake City. Unshaven and in my traveling tank-top, mouth open and drooling, I was THAT guy.
4) Police Officer - pulled me over in Bristol, on highway 20. Apparently, I zipped right through a stop sign when I was turning onto 20 from 12. He gave me my first ever warning. In the past I've always been stuck with the ticket. That cosmetic surgery must have paid off.

Sunday
Today's big event (other than seeing my family, of course) was going water-skiing for the first time in years. I used to go all the time. In the summer, daily. My dad competed when he was younger. I got fairly good at one time. So, you see... I'm hoping to get right up again like a slingshot.
I go through the ritual: put on the vest, put on the gloves, jump in the water, spit out saltwater, push the hair back, put on the ski, spit, grab the rope as the boat pulls it taut, set myself, and give the thumbs-up. The boat roars. I begin to rise from the water, and...
...the rope snaps.
Spit.
This gives my dad great joy. He rigs the roap back up. Maybe it was just a weak spot. I get re-set and give the thumbs-up again.
Snap.
Spit.
So, very anti-climactic. We'll get another rope and try again tomorrow. I also need a bigger vest. I look silly in my dad's vest. Now reading all this (if you don't know me), you might think I've gotten fat since the last time I skied. Not so. I've just become more, uh, robust. Seriously. I've been working out. Yeah...

Monday
We wake up early and go skiing again. It's 8:30 am, the water is glassy, and few boats are out. I go first. I pop right out of the water. Yay! My elation does not go much farther. Boy, has it been awhile. I was lucky to make it across the wake (slowly) a few times and hold on for one loop of the bayou. I used to slice all over that bastard. Jogging and going to the gym do not prepare you for water-skiing. Only water-skiing does.

The grand event began at 9pm. It was all I thought it would be. You don't really want me to describe the fireworks, do you?