I thought you might like to listen to the music I was listening to when I was making this post, as you read it. It’s up to you.
Last weekend the annual midwest balloon fest was held in Middletown, Ohio, just a short drive up the road from us. We’d never been before and I wanted to go see the “Balloon-glow.”
But this felt like a “God bless America” kind of moment.
It was a comfortable evening and the festival was well-attended. Most folks came well-prepared for the night’s festivities of the skydivers, balloon-glow, lazer show, and fireworks. Had those two empty red chairs been ours, we might have stayed for the entire schedule of events. But, no.
As we drove in (after we had paid), the parking attendants told us the balloon lift for that night had been cancelled because of 30mph winds. No one seemed to know for certain whether there would still be a balloon glow.
Some of the pilots lined their baskets up and allowed people to come up and ask questions.
Every now and then they would burn the flame for kicks. I was hoping I was going to get to see more than this after the 30 minute drive and $20 ticket (for the two of us), even if I did get a funnel cake out of the deal.
Then we noticed a couple of vans arrive with crews who pulled out baskets.
And yes! Balloons. Dragging that bag of balloon looks like hard work, doesn’t it?
The balloons started to come alive with a ghostly movement,
as the teams struggled to inflate them and keep them upright in less than ideal conditions.
It was magical seeing the balloons rise,
glowing together on the announcer’s count of three,
lighting up the night with color.
I think in years past, they might have lifted off the ground at night. That would be something to see.
Maybe next year.
And maybe we’ll remember the chairs.