3. Fireworks and Dogs in Hawai’i

Every year the controversy used to come up, a public debate more heated than the Democrat vs. Republican political divide, more fraught with accusations and counter-accusations than the Pro-life vs. Women’s Reproductive Rights issue, more heated than the emotionally charged football rivalry between BYU and University of Hawaii.

I’m talking about the issue of New Year’s Eve fireworks. Personally, I’m on the side of banning them altogether. It’s just gotten out of hand. I’m no Fresh-Off-The-Boat Mainland transplant who has no idea of what this tradition used to mean to local kids (and kids at heart), but let’s face it. It just got out of hand. And in the case of pet owners, it’s a complete disaster.

I admit it. I grew up with and played with firecrackers. It, indeed, was part of our cultural heritage, as some supporters of fireworks declare. Working class communities all over Hawaii went on a yearly binge, especially during New Year’s, but also on the Fourth of July, turning what was once a Chinese tradition of “busting” firecrackers to scare away the demons into a frenzy of firecracker popping that left the streets and yards with shredded red firecracker paper, scattered like withered plumeria tree leaves inches deep.

Ho, yeah. Good fun, bus’ da firecrackas.

However, over the years, this antic tradition has gradually morphed into something really, really sick and dangerous, so dangerous but so inbred in our society that we can’t even see it for what it is: temporary group insanity.

…“For a cultural tradition”???? Is it worth the damage to property and life and limb to preserve this “cultural tradition?” Let’s see. We have collectively used so much fireworks in recent years past that we have a momentary smog condition that rivals Los Angeles at the height of its air pollution problem in the 1970s. The EPA would have declared our entire state a disaster area if they took air samples on New Year’s Eve. Firefighters and police officers are strained past their capacities because of arsonists and pyromaniacs given free rein to start brush fires, set houses on fire, and burn down private and public property. Emergency rooms are packed to the gills with people coming in with blown off limbs, burns and even critical injuries from illegal use of fireworks. People with asthma and other lung problems have to seek refuge in theaters and rooms sealed off due to the smoke during the night of madness. So much money is spent on fireworks that the income thereof could probably feed the homeless for a couple of months, and then some.

When I lived in an apartment in Moiliili, in spite of bans on aerial fireworks in urban settings, I usually saw rockets flying off past my window from miscreants who could care less about bans. They shot off the illegal aerial rockets from the middle of the streets, in between tall, congested apartment buildings, with nary a care if the burning remnants landed on a flammable roof, shot through an apartment window, or hit an onlooker in the head. The sound and fury of New Year’s in Honolulu would have scared the pants off a Jihadi. One year, the rockets were going off like RPG rounds in Baghdad, and I called the police. Eventually, a police cruiser spun around the streets in front of my apartment, but by that time, the jerks who shot off the illegals were already in a different neighborhood. There’s no way the police can catch these guys since they move so quickly from street to street, like jihadis darting through the urban environment on a mission to cause mayhem.

You call that a cultural tradition? What the heck kind of tradition is this? If it’s really a tradition, then it’s a tradition that needs to be killed off as soon as possible, like other “traditions” that don’t deserve preservation, such as foot binding, spouse abuse, honor killing and eating dog. It’s gone beyond a fun, family, cultural tradition. People die from it. People get sick from it. It’s become not worth the “fun.”

And, as a pet owner, of course I think fireworks usage has gotten out of hand and out of control, so I welcomed the ban and controls on fireworks passed by the City Council of Honolulu in early 2011. While it won’t tamp down all fireworks, at least it’s a start, and hopefully it won’t be as crazy as in recent years past, when I thought I was living in a combat zone.

When we brought our puppy Maxine home in November, she was only a couple months old at her first New Year’s Eve, so she paid no attention to all the noise and smoke. My sister has a poi dog that could care less about fireworks. Their dog sleeps soundly through most of the New Year’s Eve. But we thought our Maxine was not going to be as apathetic so we got medication from our vet the following year to make her groggy. That didn’t turn out very well.

Maxine was woozy, but still conscious enough to get spooked by all the noise: the cracking of firecrackers, the deep, heavy thudding of what sounded like dam-busting illegal “bombs” that shook the foundations of our house, the shrill pitch of illegal aerials like World War II V-2 rocket bombs. She stuck close to my legs, and climbed into bed whenever it got really bad, wobbling and woozy from the medication but scared from the ruckus, sticking her snout in the folds of the blanket, or looking at us with those hang-dog eyes, pleading for the madness to stop.

My wife, Gay, said, “Oh, poor Maxine! She’s looking at us like she’s saying, ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel like I’m dying, and all that noise and smoke smell is scaring me, Mummy and Daddy!’ Wayne, we’ve got to do something else next year besides drugging her out!”

Okay, we would. The following year, last year, we tried to get away from it all. There are some hotels that admit pets on New Year’s Eve, so we reserved a room at a hotel/motel in the light industrial area near the Honolulu International Airport. The hotel was trying its best to accommodate pet owners and drum up business. When we walked into our room, we found the staff had left a goodie basket for Maxine, which included some dog biscuits and a doggie blanket. But already, around late afternoon, we could already hear intermittent fireworks going off somewhere close by. Maybe some guys were blowing up fireworks at their workplace, I don’t know. That kept Maxine jumpy and on edge.

We set our overnight bags down in the smallish room and then drove to a nearby drive-in restaurant with Maxine. Dinner for us, that New Year’s Eve, was take out fast food we ate in our hotel room. I had beef stew (the meat was a little tough and dry), Gay had a Korean plate. Maxine had her usual mix of home-cooked chicken, rice, and veggies. She probably had the best meal out of the three of us.

We returned to the hotel and I walked her around the parking lot. Every time fireworks went off in the near distance, she crouched and looked around, as if expecting Godzilla to step out from the direction of the sound and eat her whole. Not good.

I walked her back to the hotel room and then tried to settle in, but every time someone walked past the room’s door, Maxine growled and barked. She wasn’t used to being away from home, and she treated the room like she did our front yard. If a stranger walks past our yard, she’ll bark. She acted the same in the hotel room, and we feared we were going to get kicked out for making too much noise.

During the night, I took Maxine out frequently for shi shi breaks. The last thing we wanted was for her to have an “accident” in the room. Then I noticed that other rooms were also occupied by owners and their pets. We passed some rooms and could hear dogs yapping at us. So we weren’t the only ones with a dog that night.

At midnight, the fireworks noise was so prevalent that it rocked even our hotel room out near the airport. Maxine jumped on top of the bed and paced around, as if looking for a hiding place. I hardly got any sleep that night. After midnight, I took her out again for a shi shi break and she was still jittery and jumpy from the sound of lingering popping firecrackers and the occasional deep boom of firecracker “bombs.”

Around 3 o’clock in the morning, I gave up. There was no sense in staying any longer. The fireworks were nearly as bad there as I imagined it was in our own neighborhood, Maxine kept barking at anyone passing our door, and I wasn’t getting any sleep. We decided to check out of the hotel and head home. At least I might be able to get some sleep in my own bed, and Maxine would be free to bark at people passing by our yard without fear of being kicked out of a hotel. Tired, bleary eyed, and frustrated, I drove over the mountains to our home in Kaneohe.

So that was last year’s New Year’s Eve. It was horrible. Trying and failing to sleep on a too-small bed, dealing with our dog scared out of her wits, and having a dinner of stew with meat too dry and too tough. Is it any wonder I’ve come to hate fireworks?

This year, we don’t plan to go anywhere or drug Maxine up. Like dog owners all over the state, we’re just hoping and praying that the ban and controls will limit the madness.