No matter what the calendar may say, summer doesn’t really begin in L.A. until July fourth. The gloom of June has at last burned off and temperatures are on the rise. In this city, the Fourth of July — beloved by pyromaniacs, despised by canines — is the sun’s official coming out party and it is celebrated in every neighborhood with a quintessential American tradition composed of fire-cooked meat, booze, and explosives.

Marina del Rey is practically synonymous with the Fourth. By noon, the bay is filled with surgically augmented bikini bodies and old guys in captain’s hats, partying to high-decibel Hall & Oates aboard 80-foot yachts. But for those of you who don’t have a boat, you can experience that same vibe poolside at the Marina del Rey Hotel.

The scene is vibrant, the air is electric, and everywhere you look it’s nothing but tits and abs. The oceanfront pool is one of those hot spots where the beautiful people come to see and be seen. Prawns are cooking on the grill alongside corn on the cob, margaritas are being consumed at an alarming rate, and the music is pumping. Where else would you rather be?

Meanwhile, on the event lawn, the American spirit reveals itself in classic traditions, like pie-eating contests and water balloon tosses. Children are here, too, steeping in the Americana and soaking up the sage wisdom of the elder generation.

It’s 2018 and freedom is being celebrated as if for the last time. I can’t think of a better way to do it. Party on, America.