My First 4th of July

I'm honored to say that yet another 4th of July has passed being an American citizen, and I couldn't be more proud to join the millions of citizens of this great nation to celebrate such a day. This year I celebrated by doing the most American thing I could think of; I went to Puerto Rico. On the flight there I couldn't help but remember my first 4th of July experience.

It was 1994 and I was here in Orlando. I woke up very early and made it out to the Citrus Bowl. It had been probably about my 6th trip to Orlando, and I had never been to that part of town. Traffic was terrible, but I couldn't have been more excited. Following this big crowd of Orange and Green, I still didn't understand what we were doing among that crowd. It was the World Cup and we were supposed to watch Italy-Holland in the round of 16, but instead, it was Ireland that had been matched up against Holland that day. To our surprise, scalpers were reselling tickets cheaper than we had paid for already (last World Cup that it would ever happen). It was the biggest stadium I had ever been to in my life, the seats felt huge and the crowd was deafening as the starting lineups began to sing their respective anthems. This was my first ever World Cup match attending live and the experience was like nothing I could ever hoped for. Especially since this was a freebie; my dad had grounded me earlier that year for losing another soccer ball and said "Because of that, you're not going to the World Cup". I had no idea I was even going to go up until he said that to me. I guess I did well that year, or something happened, but I ended up going. I couldn't see Bergkamp's goal (terrible shame), the build up was so great everyone was on their feet and I was too small to see. The second goal however, I saw perfectly; when Bonner fumbled a long range shot and the ball clumsily went in. It was a memorable experience; I was able to see Bergkamp and Rijkaard play.

After the game was over we did the 2nd most American thing. We went to Hooters. It was a rite of passage every 9-year-old had to go through. And there we watched USA-Brazil. Soccer, crab legs, hooters ... and the day was only half over. I don't really remember what we did for the rest of the day, but I guess it didn't matter. This was my first 4th of July celebration and it really set the standard for many to come. What would you say was the first 4th of July that marked your life?