When the fireworks explode, the neighborhood turns into a wartime movie set. The huge booming explosions are ear shattering to the residents who live less than one mile away from the park. Car alarms whistle and scream as dogs yelp and babies cry in the darkness. When Sue Schneider's daughter was a baby, the explosions would frighten the child from slumber and send her screaming. Like a war zone every night.
People start to run for cover as ashes from the fireworks rain onto their cars and homes.
Guillen has lived on Citron Street since he was eight. The smoke is the worst part. He points to the thin layer of ash that covers his father's work truck. He explains how his dad constantly grows upset at the fireworks' fallout, damaging the paint on his truck and forcing him to wash it a few times a week. He fears that they may pose a hazard to their health.