I was walking home from work along a main road when a bus roaring up beside me erupted into flashes and smoke.
I stopped and so did the the two people ahead. The bus, unharmed, continued on.
Another explosion. This time it was a rocket with a trail of white smoke behind it. BANG!
Tentatively, I started to walk again. Behind me, there was another RAT-TAT-TAT of machine gun fire sounds and yellow bursts of light appeared in the corner of my eye.
I turned to watch the group of six or seven kids throwing orange sticks in front of cars. The sticks exploded.
I watched for a minute, hoping to intimidate them into stopping. But another firework launched, again one of those rocket-type ones.
So I pulled out my phone and pushed 9. Then 9. Then 9.
‘Hello? What’s the emergency?’ asked the voice.
‘There are some kids throwing firecrackers into the traffic,’ I heard myself say. ‘It’s a really busy road.’
‘Police, then? You want the police?’
I waited two dial tones, then: ‘Police, what’s the situation?’
I told them where I was and what was happening.
‘Are they fireworks or crackers?’
‘Crackers, I think. They throw these sticks and it takes a while to explode into sparks. There are loud cracking sounds. I think they’re crackers.’
‘Okay, we’ll investigate,’ said the phone voice. ‘Do you want to leave your name?’
‘Ah, no,’ I said. ‘I won’t be in the area.’
I hung up, then went on to the gym, then home to cook dinner and fold my laundry.
I wonder if the police came.