The puffs and whistles of Roman candles fill the air. The onstage screen plays a video of neanderthals discovering fire accompanied by the musical overture from the Pirates of the Carribbean. Then, like the outraged villagers of an archetypal small town, with a mind to immolate witches, monsters, or racial minorities, dozens of people with lit torches proceed off stage and descend on a giant ball of hay. The flames slowly consume a small mountain as fireworks shoot from the summit. Eventually, the novelty of this burning mountain wears thin and so an unofficial bonfire begins. Small cans with attatched strings appear out of nowhere, which people fill with dry straw, set on fire, and swing in circles such that the centrifugal force keeps the fire in the can, the fire creates a pleasing ring of light in the air, but only the good lord Himself keeps the flaming can out of the face of the nearest nine year old.
It is an amazing thing to see. And be warmed by. And terrified of.
Earlier there was a pony fight. Two male ponies battled over a disinterested mare. Number 32 lost twice. Afterwards, an ajumma won a bicycle for successfully lassoing the mare.