Booty Bay, Saturday evening.

There are quieter ways to spend a Saturday evening than standing shoulder to shoulder on the piers of Booty Bay while nearly five thousand fireworks are hurled into the tropical night sky by an organised mob of enthusiastic volunteers.

But frankly, I cannot currently think of many better ones.

What began as a curious gathering of engineers, adventurers, pirates, musicians, tourists, and several people who looked deeply concerned about safety regulations turned into one of the largest coordinated fireworks displays I have personally witnessed outside of a military accident (there has been a couple of those!).

And yes, before anyone writes in: it was intentional.

The event, organised by Shelley Sparks & Co successfully broke their previous record for the most consecutive launches of fireworks, ending the evening with an officially counted 46 participants launching in sequence.

For context, last year’s record (held at Lion’s Rest Memorial in Stormwind) stood at twenty-five so this year’s event nearly doubled it and at one point the entire lower pier resembled a military artillery line designed by excitable gnomes who had recently discovered colour theory.

The atmosphere beforehand had the strange tension of a festival and a naval bombardment occurring simultaneously. Spectators shouted encouragements across the docks while participants checked crates, fitted launchers, and screamed “READY!” with increasingly concerning levels of enthusiasm. One observer compared it to “that dance in Moonglade, but with explosives.” Another loudly questioned whether anyone had accidentally armed the wrong rockets.

A reasonable concern, as it turned out.

Still, despite the occasional confusion, and accidental near-drownings, the show itself was spectacular. Green serpent rockets spiralled over the bay, red and blue cluster volleys burst across the sky, and the finale produced enough smoke and thunder to briefly convince me the goblins had finally decided to get rid of Booty Bay for good.

“That was SO good,” one spectator shouted afterwards.

“I’ve never seen this much firework before!” exclaimed another.

A third simply stared upward and announced, with admirable honesty: “This is crazy.”

They were all correct.

Following the display, the all-gnome band The Cogspinners took to the stage overlooking the bay, delivering a thunderous concert filled with distorted bass harps, heavy mechanical riffs, and enough shouted lyrics to wake parrots halfway across Stranglethorn. Their set-list included a roaring (pun intended) rendition of Another Cog in the Wall, prompting half the crowd to sing along while the other half danced, argued, or attempted increasingly questionable romantic conversations.

Booty Bay, in other words, was thriving.

Meanwhile, throughout the evening, Rainblossom Brewhouse kept the crowds fed and hydrated under an arrangement sponsored entirely by Shelley Sparks & Co. Dumplings, spring rolls, tea, ale, and assorted drinks moved across the docks at remarkable speed as exhausted firework crews and spectators recovered from repeated sonic assaults to the ears.

When I spoke with Leejing Rainblossom between servings of spring rolls and tea, she compared the atmosphere to celebrations back home.

“It is like be in Pandaria while there is festival, yes yes,” she explained warmly while handing out food boxes to increasingly hungry patrons.

Leejing also seemed genuinely delighted by the scale of the turnout, repeatedly asking visitors whether they were enjoying themselves while somehow continuing to feed half the pier without visible panic. Frankly, if the Kirin Tor ever needs logistical support during wartime, they should simply hire Leejing and accept victory.

Later in the evening I managed to pull organiser Shelley Sparks away from greeting guests long enough for a brief interview.

According to Shelley, the record attempt involved approximately 4,600 fireworks and 920 rocket clusters distributed among participants.

“We’ve been building them fa’ weeks,” she explained.

When asked what inspired the event, Shelley said she wanted the public to experience the other side of fireworks displays.

“Everybody seems ta’ enjoy tha’ fireworks I do at peoples events, and I thought it’d be nice for them ta’ enjoy tha’ other side.”

She also admitted she specifically wanted to beat last year’s record.

Mission accomplished.

Shelley described her company as a handcrafted fireworks business available for events, weddings, celebrations, and public shows. She also confirmed that her workshop offers tours for interested visitors, though she warned that Saturday night’s aftermath would involve “a lot a’ cleaning.”

An entirely believable statement considering the state of the docks afterwards.

At one point Shelley herself narrowly avoided being crushed in what appeared to be an overenthusiastic celebratory embrace from a particularly enormous dwarf. As she escaped she reportedly shouted:

“Oh my cog! I almost died!”

Which, in fairness, may also qualify as the unofficial slogan of the evening.