You know you’re in West Michigan when…

Celebration on the Grand stayed dry last night, and another year of impressive fireworks exploded over the river on schedule. We camped out on the bridge early and were joined by a mob of college students, bubbly fresh-people on their first downtown outing. I listened to their giddy attempts to impress each other with false confidence, straining to appear interesting. The opposite-sex pairs were especially amusing. One girl talked animatedly to her male neighbor about the fascinating aspects of pyrotechnics, who agreed emphatically with everything she said. Later, she related the pacing of the fireworks display to the elements of a Christian Reformed church service. After a particularly impressive series of fireworks—a Grand Finale-esque moment towards the beginning of the event—she would squeal, “That was the offertory!” or “Ooh, the Special Music!”

I won’t name the college they had plastered on their persons (not only on t-shirts, but also written in their blonde ponytails and hip cross necklaces). If you’re from West Michigan, you can probably guess.