It’s that time of the year where you swamp your boxers by midday and flirt with pneumonia at night. We are all so anxious to get those late night backyard drinking sessions that sometimes we jump the gun. If there’s heat during the day you need to keep the heat going at night. So shake the dust off your cutoffs and chop some wood, it’s fire pit season folks.
Free will is for the reality outside our simulation. Fire pits are no different. Every fire is the same, find your assignment and stick to it. Everyone has a part to play. These are the roles of the fire pit.
Pit master. You know exactly who I’m talking about and what he looks like. Apparently every business major had to take a prerequisite in pyrotechnics. A man trialed in patience in getting it up, he’ll say “No it’s gonna catch” ten times while you sit there freezing to death wishing he’d let someone else take over. But don’t try, he’ll bite your hand off. Just let him blame the lighter, he’ll get it eventually.
The DJ. Could make or break the fire pit. This person is going to be forced to speak since their phone is is sitting at the bottom of a red solo cup. Pray they’re a good conversationalist. Otherwise they’re going to play obscure music and explain every song to you. This music is meant to set the mood and fill the empty air. Play fire pit music. Nobody wants to hear about Tiesto’s origin story.
The PDA couple. The fire pit is for reminiscing on funny stories from your childhood. Communal conversation. Laughter. Not for these two. They think the fire is strictly there for them. They’re ready to fuck right there on the rocks and they don’t care who’s watching. They’re uncomfortably handsy, they make out like teenagers, and create paranoia by whispering and giggling to each other. Everyone hates them. Go to the bathroom, no one will care. Get it out of your system piggies.
The complainer. Look, there’s nothing we can do about the wind. We all took and seat and you chose wrong, deal with it. Your constant blinking and tearing up is a bit over the top. Just pick up your chair and move. No one wants to go inside and play a card game because you’re literally and figuratively crying.
The one ready to fuck it all up. Drunkest person there. They almost broke the chair that’s too low to the ground by simply falling onto it. Getting out of the chair might as well be the Aggro Crag. Everyone’s nervous while they sway next to the fire, praying they remember how to “stop drop and roll”. They don’t do themselves any favors. They look for that gasoline spray bottle for hibachi style humor and to “see how high the flame can get”. But their favorite move is throwing a beer can in the fire for absolutely no reason.
If you don’t find yourself in any of these roles, congratulations. You’re either a storyteller or a contemplator.
Storytellers is easy. Look around the circle and think of an old memory that involves most of the people you’re with. Then just start with a “Remember when…” This will start a snowball effect that will in theory be picked up by the other storytellers.
The contemplator is worrying everybody. They haven’t said a word the entire time. They just gingerly sip their beer and stare into the flames. Hypnotized. People will begin to notice and elbow each other and head nod towards you. Don’t panic. This is a healthy release as long as you’re not ALWAYS this person. Fire has held a trance on our species since we found it. Stare into the flame, see what you find. Convince yourself you’re going to change, you’re gonna go for it, you’re going to better yourself. You won’t, but that doesn’t matter. Because in that peaceful moment with you and the fire you believe you will, and that’s all that counts.
Invest in a speaker, go to Home Depot, drink responsibly, play with fire, remember old times, make new memories. In five years time, one third of you will have babies, the other third will think they’ve outgrown backyard beers, and the remaining third will be sitting there wondering if they’ve gone about this all wrong. Enjoy it while you can.
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