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Every year, about a week before Independence Day, a small seaside community in the Pacific Northwest swells with over 40,000 visitors. They come from countless inland cities and suburbs. All have made this pilgrimage to what's arguably the most beautiful stretch of coastline in World (often referred to by proud locals as "God's Country") for the same reason: to celebrate their profound love for America by defiling otherwise pristine beaches with exploding trash.

Walk these beaches on the 5th of July and you'll get the impression the flag waving revelers from the night before had a serious beef with the sand, the ocean, and all things naturally maritime. Spent roman candles, bottle rockets, and various mortars are strewn to the horizon. Dirty diapers, fast food wrappers, beer bottles, juice boxes, and the occasional pile of feces further support the accusation. The "salt air" is gone for now. In its place lingers the rancid stench of gluttony.

Surely a few conscientious patriots packed out their spoilage once the party died, but their efforts went unnoticed. Entitlement is the basis for this great American tradition. Because we're raised to believe we not only have the right, but the obligation to blanket the land with the carcasses of our exploding trash every 4th of July, picking up one's own mess is viewed as an unpatriotic endeavor.

Trying to address the issue, face-to-face, with these trigger-happy pilgrims is futile at best, dangerous at worst. Blind indignation is the last bastion for thoughtless justification. Reason is thrown to the lions. Anyone questioning the fallout of this most coveted American holiday will be branded "anti-American".

So this 4th of July I'll stay away from my beloved beach. On the 5th I'll show up, along with a few hundred other "anti-American" locals and a box of 10-gallon garbage bags, to try and reclaim our once beautiful coastline. We'll pick up the trash that hasn't already been washed out to sea with the last tide. By days end the sands will resemble their pre-Independence Day glory and I'll wonder: if the hordes of fire wielding patriots loved America as much as they love their exploding trash, would they still accuse me of being "anti-American"... or would they clean up after themselves?

Learn more about this author, Edgar Humphrey.
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