Few people got to sleep early this Chinese New Year's Eve.
This wasn't because of the excitement of CCTV's New Year gala show, which droned on long into the night. I fell asleep three times watching it, and was kicked awake by the more patient older members of my family.
No, the culprits were the fireworks and firecrackers.
Before Spring Festival, Beijingers hiked out en masse to the neighboring Hebei Province to purchase cheap fireworks, including massive high-decibel rockets that violated city regulations. They were as loud as thunderbolts, which didn't frighten off demons, but did terrify children and shock the elderly.
Setting off fireworks should be a happy pastime, not a cacophony that devours the city and leaves hundreds of injured behind in its wake.
In Beijing, the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, which was burned down two years ago at the new CCTV site, still hasn't been rebuilt, leaving an ugly blackened hulk behind.
This year the capital survived without any serious fires, but between midnight and 1 in the morning on February 3, 161 fire alarms were set off, nearly double the number last year.
In Shenyang, Liaoning Province, the five-star Dynasty Wanxin Hotel went up in a bonfire, causing losses of 3 billion yuan ($454 million).
Can the country manage the loss of one first-class hotel a year?
Fireworks always leave a trail of the wounded behind. By 8 am on February 3, the Tongren Hospital in central Beijing had admitted 85 patients injured by fireworks, including 78 eye injuries and over 20 children.
On the same day, Jishuitan Hospital treated 25 cases of serious burns from fireworks. Two Beijingers died in fireworks accidents.
Facing both physical threats and mental stress from the explosive new year, many Beijingers have started to miss the quiet and safe days when fireworks were banned, a cause that has been taken up by some deputies to the National People's Congress.
Beijing forbid the setting off of private fireworks within the Fifth Ring Road entirely from 1993 to 2005. New initiatives to restrict fireworks once more are quite possible.
Fireworks advocates say they're a Chinese tradition, and that the responsibility lies on the government to manage them properly. But the Beijing municipal government pays a high cost in order to protect people's entertainment traditions.
Beijing mustered 720,000 people in the city patrol on new year's eve, almost as many as were put together for the Beijing Olympic Games in 2008.
Because of the city's crowded population and rapid development, construction is everywhere in Beijing.
After nearly four months without snow or rain, the city was as dry as timber. The week-long barrage of fireworks was no different from hundreds of thousands of people playing with fire. The accidents and fires that resulted were inevitable.
It's been six years since the ban on fireworks was lifted in response to public demand. But now the chorus of voices calling for the ban to be restored is getting louder.
But government policy can't just blindly follow the public mood. They need to take the long term into account. Perhaps a compromise solution can be found.
Even if the city banned private fireworks again, it wouldn't mean saying goodbye to the new year displays.
In most countries, spectacular fireworks demonstrations are organized by local authorities in public spaces, well away from the crowds and run by trained professionals.
These involve far more elaborate and beautiful fireworks than private citizens can manage.
If Beijing did this, people could enjoy the festival atmosphere, save money, and the noise pollution and safety issues would disappear.