The skyline swelled with inflatable castles and slides, and lines twisted out of hot dog and waffle booths.
As a foreigner covering June 17th, I came with the intent of truly finding the holiday. What was its core? Where did its spirit lie? With hot dog in hand, I set off on my hunt, which soon degenerated into aimless wandering. I drifted from sight to sight, happening upon a juggler from Canada, four men pulling a cement mixer down the street and a performance by an Arabian dance company. While feeding the ducks with the bun from a second hot dog, I decided I couldn’t be there yet. There had to be more to the 17th of June than disinterested browsing.
It wasn’t until I reached the far end of the lake when I found it. The skyline swelled with inflatable castles and slides, and lines twisted out of hot dog and waffle booths. I came across clowns, puppet shows, mini golf, acrobats, and throngs of children and parents. Bam! Children. What could be a finer way to spend an afternoon, than with your parents, getting delicious treats and glimpsing fantastic spectacles on a tour of paradise? How poignant that a patriotic anniversary of a nation’s independence, would come to celebrate innocence! I’d found the holiday at last – now if only I were 15 years younger.