I woke up to an unimaginable racket. I’d forgotten about the hot air ballons here, but once I realized what the racket was all about, I was out of bed, down the stairs and out the front door, in the middle of the street, in my pajamas, iPhone aiming at the sky. Nothing says dork quite like that. This is not an unusual occurrence here, and as a kid we even had one land in the street at the intersection two doors down. Yes, I have pictures of that, too. Another time, many years ago, a hot air balloon landed down the road a ways, but got caught up in a tree on it’s descent, the basket toppled and a man fell out, to his death. This is an activity that I have not tried, not death, not toppling out of a hot air balloon basket, but simply taking a hot air balloon ride. I’ve done glider rides, but not a balloon ride. My parents took a hot air balloon ride, there is a picture of them smiling from the basket, on the shelf in the living room, downstairs. They weren’t what I’d consider the greatest adventurers in the world, but the picture lends a slightly different story. It’s on my list, somewhere after skydiving, paddle boarding, riding the worlds fastest roller coaster and white water kayaking, but on the list, nonetheless.
Well, since I went to the trouble and embarrassment to get this clip, I thought I’d share.