Never risking anything meant never having or doing or being anything either. Life is risk, it turned out.
–Lev Grossman/The Magician’s Land
Yesterday: Isolation tank float
Today: Balloon float
Now I just need to have a rootbeer float or go on a river float to complete a trifecta of floats.
OH! I just remembered that tomorrow I am making a float in glass blowing class.
I didn’t really set out to do that. Serendipity.
So, how was it?
Compared to a helicopter flight into a volcano on Kauai? A little tame.
Still. A whole lot of fun, and I didn’t have to go all the way to Hawaii. The people at Vista were pretty awesome. All volunteers, aside from the pilots. Friendly, helpful, all having a great time.
It was surprised by how still the air was. Of course, that’s obvious in retrospect–the balloon moves with the wind, so there wouldn’t be much sensation of windiness. Plus, balloons don’t go up if it’s windy at all. Too dangerous.
I didn’t realize just how much improvisation is involved in piloting a balloon. They really can’t set out in a specific direction. They can go up and down by heating the air more or releasing air, and they can rotate the entire balloon by opening vents to one side or the other–but they have no directional control at all. They are completely at the mercy of the wind. They land in whatever field happens to be nearby and friendly to balloonists, and were calling ahead to the farmhouses to let folks know there was a landing coming. They pay the landowners in balloon rides.
And guess what? Even though I went alone, I talked to people. A little. Hey, I am still me. I didn’t do a standup routine. I didn’t dazzle anyone with my charm. Do I even have any charm? I wonder. I did manage to sit at a table with other people and chat with them like a civilized human being instead of just getting in my car and leaving as soon as we got back on the ground. And it wasn’t just because I wanted a mimosa, either.
Risky behavior for me.
It was a typical Oregon day: gray. It wasn’t supposed to rain, but a few drops came down during the flight. It never rained hard enough to deter Oregonians from their recreational duties. We are a rain-resistant lot.
To summarize: the only downside to the day was that it started at the unholy hour of 0430. I would have an easier time staying up that late than I did getting up. Nice people. A gorgeous ride. Pretty scenery.
And it’s not over yet–tonight I get to up to Tequila Hill. That may not be a positive for them, because this time I am cooking.
Update: dinner was good. I made chelo kebab. Persian food. It even turned out well.
We all put on some lotion after dinner because we had dry knees. Per Maliya. Then Rick and Maliya jumped rope. We smoked some hookah. We drank some cider. We drank some wine. The usual.
On the way out Chelle reminded me to have fun glass blowing, and it hit me. That is another activity involving fire. I am scared of fire. She pointed out that I am facing my fears, and that is a good thing.
I guess maybe I am, although I did make Rick grill the meat. Cooking over flames is still not something I am comfortable with.
So I keep thinking, and I do NOT know why, “got joie de vivre?”
And the answer is “hell, yeah!”
Life is good.
