A couple of months ago, as we were reading bedtime books to the boys, we heard the distinctive roar of a hot air balloon burner. It is loud, powerful and sounds like nothing else I can describe. We tore open the shade (to see what was the matter) and looked into the eyes of the balloon pilot. Well, not really, but the balloon was about second story level and hovering over our backyard. DadOfAllTrades and the boys ran down the stairs two at a time and we all ended up in the back yard. Quite a sight, as the boys were in their pj’s. After seeing the balloon hover away without a sound, I winked at DadOfAllTrades and suggested we hop in the car and chase it. It was not a school night, after all, and we only live once. So we did, and we met a wonderful couple who told us that we could help them crew for the balloon. If we helped them twice, we could go up in the balloon. It sounded too good to be true.
And for a little while, it was. We did help a few weeks later. Pretty cool, and the boys were all abuzz at the task, and I will discuss it at another time. But as the weeks of the fall became short, and the weather became less and less conducive to flying a hot air balloon, DadOfAllTrades and I began to think that our second time helping would have to come next year. Oh well, the boys have loved the balloons for four years now. The love was not going to go away overnight.
The lovely couple kept trying to arrange flights and Mother Nature never cooperated. Until last night. Well last afternoon-with the time change darkness comes early to these parts now. Finally we were arriving at their driveway for a flight. This would be our second time on the crew which meant that next year we would be able to fly. Whoop! We said the obligatory hellos to the other helpers and we piled in the Suburban, their bouncy poodle included.
After arriving at a locked gate, barring us entrance to the take-off pad of choice, we could see the pilots brain a-turning. The winds were going to take us north, so he drove further south and wound up at a cul-de-sac. We hopped out, gave the boys their “stay on the trailer” instructions, and began prep. It is kinda neat to keep your eye on the surrounding houses. As the inhabitants figure out that there is a balloon launching, they run out with video cameras and smiles. Pretty cool.
DadOfAllTrades and I are on velcro duty, putting the parachute in the top of the envelope (the colorful fabric balloon is really called an envelope) as it inflates. The pilot is concerned tonight, because he cannot find the correct cord and he trots off into the envelope. Really, he is inside this powerful balloon that lifted me off the ground as I was trying to do the Velcro last time. I repeat, he is inside it. As it is inflating. I fight the urge to yell “HURRY UP!” because I figure he knows what he is doing and continue to attach the parachute. I guess he finds it because he eventually comes out like a magician coming out from behind the curtain for the audiences delight.
The envelope finally is full and the balloon is upright. At this point, the crew is hanging on to the basket to keep that balloon from flying away from the pilot. He looks to his mentor, one if the crew for the night, and tells him to board. The seasoned mentor says “no”. Like, “No thanks. I have something else to do. No biggie. I’ll catch you next time.” What?? The guy who knows the most about piloting a balloon in unpredictable winds is refusing?? This should be a signal to everyone else there that this flight might not be a good idea. I, however, miss this slight-of-hand “no” because I never can understand social subtleties.
{Conclusion to arrive tomorrow}
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