Although there was no deluge to delay our return home, we did get lost on a dark golf course on our long journey from "Fireworks Hill" to the place where our car was parked. It's rare to have much grass underfoot in Tucson, so getting to sport about on the slope was a lot of fun. In fact, the distressingly high admission fees charged by the El Conquistador resort are easier to justify for that reason -- the chance to violate the sacred greensward of the golfing set, with both shoes and tires -- than for the concert that is the ostensible reason for their expense. But the fireworks themselves were beautiful and that's what really matters.I just wish that the resort and Oro Valley Police personnel who were so diligent in directing us into the resort to spend money had spent a little more time planning how to get us out of it afterwards. I kept telling Skylar that we were safe, but, having heard a former colleague's tales of the dangerous beasts that live on Sonoran fairways, I was getting a little anxious during the passage of our dark purgatory. Perhaps that's because the extreme heat had caught up with me. I didn't feel that hot on the grass, despite the 110 degree temperatures when we arrived, but I think that the my body was fooled by the moisture coming off the well-irrigated course. Right now I'd settle for thinking crooked, which would be a big improvement on feeling like a pot roast waiting to be carved.