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.