• by Kelly Samardak , July 7, 2008

Did you know that the 4th of July was going to be called the 6th of July, but it didn't have the same ring to it? You didn't know because it's not true. What is true is that the entire tri-state area goes on vacation the week of July 4th -- which means instead of reading about a explosive blowout at Cielo with media industry heavy-hitters, you get to ride along the NJ Transit with me to little bitty Red Bank, N.J. for rain, salmonella, and fireworks!

Red Bank came highly recommended by a blogfriend (hooray social media!) for a dose of small beachy town, quirky art scene, good eats, and distinctive shopping. Turns out the only weekend I could get away for some sand in the pants was this Fourth of July -- when Red Bank hosts the fireworks show on the Navesink! Their special Kaboom! Web site proclaims 50,000 people flood the town, but if you ask a cabbie it's 100,000 and if you ask a bartender, you've got 200,000 people churning in the parks and in the streets to catch the light show. Eyeballing it, I'd say we had 50,000 to 75,000 fans of explosive sparkly lights.

Stepping out of Manhattan means stepping into a new, more slow moving skin. I had to adjust my "now" knob. It's great to be able to just stand on the curb, stick a hand out, and swoop -- there's a cab. In Red Bank a ten-minute wait time really means 45 minutes. And sometimes you share a cab by surprise, but you don't share the fare, which I thought was slightly bamboozly, but I didn't want to get Yellow Cab blacklisted by bringing it up.

July 3rd was soupy with humidity, making the short trek between waterside parks a swim-walk wet knee pit challenge. As soon as the sun dropped, the temperature took a positive hit and our spot on the lawn became a living thing -- a flipping, flopping, secret-beverage-slurping-myspace-cell-phone-photo-session mass of hormones, overdressed teens, and Miller-Lite-soaked middle-agers.

Ooos and ahhs leaked from the crowd with each new musically synchronized explosion. "OH MY GAAAAWD!!" yawped from the influenced-by-chemical-snacks fellow next to me. The show was followed by a people-watching extravaganza at Chubby's, which can only be described as a hookup fondue constructed over an open septic system (yeah, the bathrooms were deplorable). Red-faced, beer-swilling shore-goers crammed themselves against the bar to line up their Jaeger bombs and stare up at the rhythmically challenged gals seizing on the bar.

Let's wrap this up, shall we - I've got to prepare for this week's media style shindigs, but before I go, I need to mention something that was actually more disappointing than sitting on the beach at Donovan's Reef (another place the reminded me that I'm either too young or too old for this stuff) in the sprinkling rain watching a kid hook a fluke. And that would be the disease-riddled egg that I plopped into my mouth at the much-lauded, recommended by EVERYONE Broadway Diner. "You can't miss it if you're Red Bank!" they said. Well, I don't miss the dysentery gift I received with breakfast. So, a relieved shout-out to Starbucks, Manhattan Bagel, and 7-11 in beautiful downtown Red Bank for their clean facilities.

Getting your July party calendar squared away? Pencil me in! Send invitations to kelly@mediapost.com

Feel the fireworks in the pics on Flickr!

Hey -- want to know what a social diarist is up to all the time? (You're sick!) Feel free to follow me in Twitter!