“Why don't we go by bike too…?”. Nice was about to offer the highlight of the festivities on the evening of July 14, with the spectacular fireworks over the sea. The climate was mild, thanks also to a queue of Mistral from the previous days. A bicycle ride on the cycle path that runs along the Promenade, from home to the Negresco, just over a thousand meters with the view that sweeps from the lighthouse of Cap Ferrat to Cap d'Antibes is a pleasure that is renewed every time. Why not go there, it's 21:XNUMX pm in an hour there will be fireworks… It's my wife who throws in the idea, just to do something, there's a party, we're on vacation.
From the balcony of the house, next to the Radisson Blu Hotel, we are watching the crowd that fills the beaches and the Prom, some on foot, some by bike, others on skates or even on a scooter, all oriented towards the centre. An immense crowd fills Nice from early morning, circulation almost paralyzed everywhere, from the station down to Place Massena along the Jules Médecin, from Rue Saleya to the Prom. We too spent an afternoon stuck in traffic, the night before another hour by car coming from Milan, we are a bit tired. After all, we have already been in the midst of the crowd of the "Quatorze juillet" several times, the last time just last year going on foot to friends who live, under the hill of the Castle, on the tip of Rauba Capeu between the port and the Quai des Etats Unis, one of the strategic places to see the fires.
Also there were Paolo Occhipinti, the former editor of Oggi, and his wife who have a house in Nice on the Promenade de Magnan. It's dark outside now. We decided to stay home. By now, even if a friend calls us, we'd say no thanks. The cell phone doesn't ring. It's almost 10: we still don't know that our reluctance and the silent iPhone will be a great stroke of luck. I get ready with the telephoto lens to immortalize the scenography that is about to begin. The sea lights up with a thousand colors, in a din of sounds and roars. The scene repeats itself every year, I'm not crazy about fires but it's the joy of the people around you that gets you.
Even under the house the Promenade is a pit of crowds and cars. A gigantic truck also passes by, all white and shiny. But who cares? The big party is over there. Not many seconds pass, the fires go out, the massacre begins. A hellish night of death, in the morning Nice is a ghostly city: there is not a soul around, the deserted beaches, the empty and silent Prom. Among the many friends who call us on the cell phone to find out about our news, there is also Occhipinti who asks me where I was and says: “We wanted to go but it was a bit too windy…”.
