JOANNA CAREW

Several days and over 1,000 miles passed after Yosemite, there was a blur of landscapes so vast it felt like we’d driven through a geography textbook: from Yosemite (snow capped) to Death Valley (50 degrees Celsius), past Las Vegas to the Hoover Dam (massive), and finally via the Grand Canyon (just … wow!).

By the time we rolled into Flagstaff, Arizona, for 04 July we were dusty, wide-eyed, and absolutely ready to see what all the patriotic fuss was about.

We started the day with a proper-small town parade. Thousands lined the streets – flags waving, kids in star-spangled outfits, veterans on vintage cars – the whole town turned out, with smiles and joy, and it was the greatest privilege to be a part of. There was a warmth to the celebrations that went beyond the desert heat, a local love and pride, a genuine togetherness, and that bold Americanness to wear your heart on your sleeve – ideally in red, white and blue!

After soaking up the morning’s flag-fest, Alfie and I jumped back in the car and headed north to Utah for part two of our Independence Day double act. We’d debated how to spend the day as our first ever 04 July in the States, and after help from ChatGPT we’d opted for splitting it between Arizona and Utah so we could enjoy proper fireworks and a full shindig (Flagstaff was substituting fireworks with a drone display due to the fire risk being so high).

So, voila, after looking for a town with some buzz, accommodation downtown so I could have a drink and leave the car, and a proper firework display … Kanab, Utah came up as our solid option.

… What we neglected to learn before arriving was that the Utah alcohol rules are ridiculously strict! No word of a lie, towns of under 10k people are not allowed to have pubs or bars – and Kanab’s population is 5k! My party night was not looking quite so boozy.

Hey ho, it was time to regroup and find a Plan B: we decided on drinks and dinner at a restaurant (alcohol may be purchased if accompanied by food!!). We chose a busy looking place, thinking there was a promising vibe, maybe even a party atmosphere … after waiting for our table it turns out the place was eerily quiet. We ordered sangria, which tasted like fruit squash after an AA meeting, so then I tried wine, which came in the smallest glass I’ve ever seen, enough was enough, I surrendered all ideas of drinking.

Actually, with the heat and lacklustre vibe of the place we regretted leaving the buzz of Arizona, and considered just going back to our apartment … but thank god we didn’t, the party was just around the corner!

Swiftly leaving the funeral parlour, aka restaurant, we headed to the park where we knew the fireworks were taking place. There the entire vibe flipped! We stumbled across 7,000 people all ready to party, they all seemed to be absolutely buzzing, and the drug was patriotism – simply on a high from being Americans on the most American day of the year.

Heading up the crowd was a stage with a band playing – The Fox Brothers – country with a touch of rock, and comprised of four siblings from Montana, including one delicious lead singer I won’t soon forget!!!

They played for hours, I boogied away like a woman reborn, and eventually yanked Alfie up to join the dancing. By the end of the final set we were sweaty, giddy, and headed straight to meet the band like devoted groupies!!

Then came the fireworks, A single guitar accompanied them playing the national anthem. Not a soul spoke or moved, just the melody echoing with the fireworks across the park, and reverberating off the red cliffs that horseshoed the venue. It was eerie, epic, and entirely intoxicating.

Then the fireworks exploded even more spectacularly, choreographed to music, the cliffs amplifying every note, every cheer. The final song: God Bless the USA by Lee Greenwood – as a Brit you might not even know it, but my god!!! – the most unapologetically, chest-thumping ballad of national pride! As the final fireworks lit up the sky, and black descended upon us once more, the crowd spontaneously burst into chants: “USA, USA, USA!” 

7,000 voices, Every age, every background, all caught in their moment. Flags flying, Faces alight. It was spine-tingling. Alfie and I stood there, swept up in the joy, the pride, the absolute emotional certainty of it all. It was magnetic, and for that split second we both wanted to be American!

Afterwards, back at our apartment – with a well deserved glass of wine – I found myself wondering: do we Brits have anything comparable? This loud, joyful, unwavering pride in who we are? Ours is quieter, I think, more British?! It creeps out at royal weddings, in pubs during World Cup, maybe during the odd street party on a coronation, but we don’t have anything quite like Independence Day. We don’t wave flags like on 04 July, but standing there in the middle of Utah, beneath a sky of stars and fireworks, I sort of wished we did!