This blog post isn't going to be what it was supposed to be. I eagerly anticipated writing tonight about our first hot air balloon ride today. I knew I would have some decent pictures (gorgeous ones if I got lucky), and I thought I might even be able to post some video.
Riding in a hot air balloon has always been a dream of mine. I mean since childhood. I don't remember when my fascination (obsession?) with heights began, but as long as I can remember I wanted to be UP THERE. In a tree. On the house. In the sky. Standing on the edge of a cliff.
A couple of years ago we stumbled across a website advertising hot air balloon rides not too far from where we live. We put our names on the list for a standby flight, because that was significant cheaper than making a regular reservation.
It took several months, but the guy finally called us and scheduled a ride. Then thunderstorms moved in late in the day and he had to cancel. That was Labor Day. We're not sure which year, but it wasn't 2008 (Sweet Girl was home to go to the first UGA game), it wasn't 2007 (I was at Sweet Girl's, moving her into her new condo), so it had to be as long ago as 2006 or even longer.
Not long ago Hubby mentioned the balloon guy and we agreed that he had probably lost our contact information.
Then out of the blue (pun sort of not intended) last Monday, I got an email with "fly" in the subject line, and the guy said he had an opening for this weekend if we wanted a Valentine balloon ride.
First of all, I find it kind of hard to believe that he hasn't had an opening or a cancellation or a chicken-out in the last three years.
I immediately let him know that we were indeed interested in flying Sunday afternoon, and we were eagerly looking forward to it.
I didn't hear any more from him all week. Yesterday morning I sent him an email asking if we were still on for today, since I hadn't heard from him. He said, "Yes, I think so. I'm checking on one more thing. I'll get back with you later today." I told Hubby I hoped the thing he was checking on wasn't a great big rip in the balloon.
Then nothing. All day long. I checked my email repeatedly, and I never heard from him. Hubby went to work as usual this morning, and when he got home he asked me if I had heard from balloon guy. Whose name is actually Brigham (that's his first name), but I sort of enjoy referring to him as balloon guy. And not capitalizing it.
I could tell Hubby really wanted to play golf if we weren't going flying, and I didn't blame him. I sent him off to the golf course with my blessings, sort of miffed that I never heard from balloon guy. I knew if Hubby stayed home and we didn't go flying, and he didn't get to play golf, he would be one disappointed puppy. Plus he would be here underfoot all afternoon. Plus there was no point in BOTH of us being miffed.
And almost as soon as he left the driveway, balloon guy called. He said of course we were still on, and he sounded confused as to why I thought otherwise. Keep in mind this is the first verbal contact we'd had. And he had my number all the time. He said all we had to do was drive TWO HOURS to the launch site (NOT where he told us the last time, which was much closer to home). So when he called, we basically had two hours' notice. We've waited three years (that we know of), and he gives us two hours' notice.
I called Hubby on his cell phone, and he hadn't teed off yet. If I had insisted, he would have come home and we would now be $400 poorer. But I didn't, he didn't, and we aren't.
So I'll have to wait again for my first hot air balloon ride. Maybe this time we won't have to wait three years. At least I hope not.