Independence Day

This is my first time not celebrating the 4th of July playing or watching volleyball in a tournament in Lima, or enjoying the hot Ohio day with close friends and taking part in the events of the Star Spangled Spectacular - making fun of the morbidly obese radio personalities that we hear every day, but never really see. Before this, I spent every mid-summer at Grandma and Grandpa's lake house, water skiing and tubing with my cousins all day until the boat ran out of gas and eating Spiedies for dinner and roasting marshmallows over the fire for smores until the firemen set off that years' fireworks display. Even last year, I rang in Independence Day throwing up on a Chinatown bus headed back to New York from D.C., where I was visiting Kellyn (she did an excellent job of intoxicating me beyond recognition), met up with friends for a Yankees (ew) game (during which I experienced a massive hangover), and watched the fireworks over the East River. There is nothing in my memory of this day where I have not celebrated.

Here I find myself in Morocco, where every day has been more fun than the next. We just went to Marjane and bought two 24-packs of the cheapest beer and a cheap bottle of whiskey (to add to our collection of two bottles of vodka). It's going to be an American Independence Day party to remember.