Jonny did the Sunday morning shopping in Robertsdale, Alabama.
If you've ever been to a firework warehouse, you know that it's an intense experience. Cool, dark, quiet—you can feel that with the stroke of just one match, the entire place could go up in explosive, devastate-anything-in-its-path flames. That my friends, is an intense feeling.
And there we were, somewhere between Virgin Islands National Park and Park #5 on a Sunday morning, walking up to a building adorned with BIG BOLD signs reading, 'NO SMOKING - NO SMOKING - NO SMOKING!!'
Inside Shelton Fireworks were two employees governing hundreds, maybe thousands, of boxes filled with childhood favorites of which we grabbed up handfuls of each. Smoke bombs, fountains, killer bees, snakes, flowers, sparklers, firecrackers ... all set!
We stayed away from the half of the store where the mortars lived—we don't need to send flaming anything into the air anywhere near our National Parks.
The Airstream looked right at home in that desolate parking lot at Shelton's, didn't it?
