For Napa’s Fourth of July, I considered going downtown to party with my neighbors, but a higher duty called. I speak of bingo.

Bingo does not take a holiday on the Fourth. No sir. While the multitudes gathered by the river to whoop it up and watch pyrotechnics, bingo loyalists would be at the Expo for their regular Saturday night game.

Cheryl and I sell flash cards at the Napa High Band Booster game. (What is flash? Like buying a Lottery ticket, but more complex.) Jonathan is a student worker who pops popcorn and sells candy. While others cavorted, we would stand tall with the bingo players

There would be personal financial gain, but also altruism. No bingo, maybe no high school band. That’s how I think of it.

Still, working bingo on America’s birthday. Somehow it seemed wrong. We would be locked in a bingo hall for six hours while Napa partied a short distance away.

Cheryl and I worked hard to cast bingo duty in a heroic light. We’re working so Napa can play, we told ourselves.

Not every family member could make this mental leap. One of our group would have preferred to hang out closer to the action.

At the gambling hall, some of our fellow workers were optimistic that we might draw a big crowd despite the holiday competition.

I wasn’t so sure. While bingo players are generally considered to be diehards, I could see some of them opting for barbecues and fireworks.

Sure enough. When balls started bouncing, the crowd was two-thirds of normal.

Revenues would be down, but I sensed greater camaraderie than usual among workers and players. I liked that. Camaraderie is an underrated pleasure.

On the PA system, our leader said we were at the very center of Napa’s Fourth of July celebration. The fireworks show would be fired off from just outside our doors. When the explosions began, we were under strict orders from the fire marshal to stay indoors.

Looking through glass doors, I spied pyrotechnicians attaching wires to rows of tubes.

A thrill went through me. I recalled launching a few practice mortars when I was in the army. I began having a bomb-bursting flashback.

As dusk approached, I began detaching from my flash duties. Soon the building would shake, our ears would take a pounding. Or so I hoped.

At the first boom, I abandoned my work station and plastered my face to the glass. Each launch came with a brilliant white light. When the shells burst, the entire field — the site of the summer carnival — was drenched in color.

I couldn’t see the aerial explosions — they were too directly overhead — but I could hear the pop, pop, pop and feel the rapture of rockets’ indirect glare.

Finally, I could stand it no longer.

I abandoned all pretense of being a responsible flash worker. I snuck outside, joining several bingo players who had similarly jumped ship.

We gathered like the dumbstruck, alien-gawking humans in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” Buffeted by light and sound, we were reduced to inarticulate gasping and wild gesticulations. This was the best fireworks show of our lives.

As the earth shook and the sky exploded, I racked my brain. What could be better than this? Standing inside the torch of the Statue of Liberty for a New York City fireworks extravaganza? Maybe.

The out-of-body experience didn’t last, of course. The bingo manager sent her minions to bring us back inside.

The heavy shelling continued to shake the building, prompting Jonathan to have his own flashback. This was nearly as good as the Metallica concert at the Oracle Arena, he said.

It took an hour before my hearing returned to normal. The thrill is still with me.

A word to the wise for next year’s Fourth of July: Play bingo.

Kevin can be reached at 256-2217 or Napa Valley Register,  P.O. Box 150, Napa 94559 or kcourtney@napanews.com