Hot Air Balloon

Four score and seven years ago a strange man brought forth, upon this street, a hot air balloon, conceived in a shop, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are able to ride in it.

Ok, yeah. I have no life. Let’s just move on.

So a few Thanksgivings ago, a hot air balloon landed in the cul-du-sac across the street. Naturally, the landing of a large multi-colored balloon in the middle of the street attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity. Being the curious children that we were, my cousin Ian and I decided to go get a closer look. We gathered around and listened to the man in the balloon tell how he had tried to land in the nearby elementary school field, but the wind had something different in mind. We watched as he packed up the balloon, and soon the curious on-lookers started returning to their homes.

Once everyone excluding my aunt, cousin and myself had left, Ian started asking questions. He asked how it stayed up, where he bought the balloon, how to steer it, and if he could have a ride. The man looked taken aback for a moment, but then smiled and said that if it was alright with his mom, it was alright with him. All we had to do was follow them to their next point of take off.

Not wanting to miss this, I piled in the car with Aunt Carol and Ian, who was very excited at this point.

After arriving at the take off point, we got out and helped him put his balloon together. He made sure it was all put together correctly, and then he started piling people in. There was a newlywed couple, the man who owned the balloon, and Ian. Fortunately, there was room for one more.

The man turned and asked how much I weighed, nodded at my answer, and told me to hop in. I was informed at this point that my weight plus theirs was just about how much his balloon could hold, and there was a very slight chance that he would have to let me off early. However, this fact was not a deal-breaker.

The ride was exhilarating. My great fear of heights had me feeling slightly nervous, but mostly I concentrated on the amazing view.

Unfortunately, it was short lived.

The man turned to me and informed me that they would have to let me off. My weight was just slightly too much for the balloon to take. Talk about a self-esteem booster. He landed the balloon in a golf course, and, pointing to a chain link fence, asked if I could jump over it. Knowing full well that this was not going to be an easy task for me, I nodded. He pointed to a large mound of dirt next to a truck and beside a large brick house, and told me to wait there. They would come pick me up after they landed.

So, after hopping out of the basket and running across the golf course to the fence, there was a problem. It turns out the fence was prison style. There were rolls of barbed wire all across the top. I ran up and down the fence looking for a break, but alas, there were none.

What could I do? The golf course was huge; I knew I would never find my way out. And, if I did, what would I do then? I had no cell phone, and they wouldn't know to look for me there. Just as I was praying to find a solution to my problem, the sliding glass door of the large brick house on the other side of the fence opened, and a man stepped out. He called out to me, asking if I wished to come to the other side of the fence. I replied that that was indeed what I wanted, and he came down to help. After a minute of deep thought, we realized that there was one solution: I would crawl under the fence. He bent down and lifted the metal chain-link fence as high as he could, and I got down on my stomach and crawled army style to the other side.

Standing up and brushing off as much mud and dirt as I could, I explained to the man that I was to go find the mound of dirt next to the truck and wait for the hot air balloon man to pick me up. This nice young man from the large brick house asked if I knew the man from the balloon. I admitted that I did not. He then asked if this was the man who would be picking me up. I stood for a minute, and then admitted that I wasn’t sure who would pick me up, but that I had been assured that someone would be there for me. I’m not sure what was going through this man’s head, but I would be willing to bet that he was expecting to see my face on his milk carton the next week. He offered me his phone to call my mother, but I kindly declined, stating that I didn’t want balloon man to worry when he came for me. He shrugged, made sure I was safe, and returned to his home.

I found the mound of dirt next to the truck, and I waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
I was sure that they were supposed to be there by this time.

This is when I started to freak out. What was I doing? I had gotten into a hot air balloon with a totally strange man who I had never met before in my life, and now I was waiting for him to come pick me up and bring me ‘home’?!? I was crazy. Didn’t I watch the news? This was how people died!!

So, realizing that I was in a very unique situation, I decided to call my mom to come and pick me up. I considered going back to the large brick house, but somehow I didn’t want that man to know that I had given in.

I looked around. This was a new neighborhood, there weren’t too many inhabited houses around. However, I did see one. I walked up to the door, knocked, and waited. When the mother of the household came to the door, I asked if I could use her phone to call my mom for a ride. She looked for a second as though she were going to say “Um…no” but then she nodded and let me in.

I asked the lady her address, and called my mom, asking her to come and pick me up. She sounded confused, but I assured her that I would explain when I got home.

While waiting for my mom to come, I sat in the lady’s kitchen watching her bake her Thanksgiving turkey. She asked about the dried mud on my clothing, and I explained how I had crawled under her neighbor’s fence. She didn’t quite know what to say to this. I ended up telling her the entire story, and I’m sure that she too checked her milk cartons for my face for weeks to come. I sat and talked to her about what family I had coming over for Thanksgiving dinner, I listened as her daughter and son talked about downloading things on their computer. When the lady needed an extra hand while transporting the turkey, I was there to help.

Soon my mother came to get me, and I bid the family farewell. I thanked them for letting me use their phone, and she thanked me for helping with the turkey.

I often wonder if, when Thanksgiving rolls around, that family remembers the story of the strange girl who showed up just after getting off a hot air balloon and asked to use their phone.


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