Momnesia

Up Up and Away...

AUGUSTA, GA. - I can't remember what a "normal" Saturday night is like. Dinner and a movie? Videos and popcorn? Snuggling in with books and conversation? I don't think I've done any of those things in years. Usually I get Emmie into bed after a long day of parks and such, then crawl into my jammies and curl up with a book, only to fall asleep 15 minutes later. Cause I'm a rock star.

Saturday night was no exception. The one time Scott and I have adult plans - dinner with the Cheeks at their home in North Augusta - there is drama.

"Dinner's ready," Terri calls, and we go out onto the front porch to retrieve the smokers.
"Look at that!" Andy points. It's a blue and white hot air balloon, and it's coming down fast. "There's nowhere for them to land," he worries, and takes off running across yards to see if he can figure out where they're going.

"There's not a field there or something?" I call.
"No. That's all forest," he shouts back.

They're landing, but in the middle of the woods? We figure it has something to do with the thunderheads massing above us.

"Honey, shouldn't you call public safety?" I ask Scott. He is visibly reluctant. But the balloon goes down so he calls. There's no way for us to get to them, and we don't see a fireball or hear screaming, so we leave it to the pros.

Then, Terri spots a red and yellow balloon less than a quarter of a mile away: "God, there's no way they're going to make it," she exclaims.

The balloon drops, hovers, is buffeted by rising winds, and drops again. They're down, and it doesn't look good. She and her mom, Eileen, and I take off after it. Andy steps inside to grab a camera and call the police. Eileen's still carrying her glass of Pinot Grigio. She stops to down it and tosses the glass in the bushes as we cackle hilariously.

We round the corner into the next neighborhood and there it is: a fully inflated hot air balloon resting perfectly at the intersection in a quiet little neighborhood in North Augusta. A corp of workers has already surrounded it, some wearing t-shirts that say "Chase Crew" on the back. They tell us that they had taken off from Hammonds Ferry when rain began coming in from the West.

"You can't fly a balloon in the rain," one of the workers drawls.

In less than 10 minutes, they have the entire structure down, deflated, and packed in a bag not much larger than a suitcase. Terri helps them by sitting on it. I borrow a camera from some teenagers in a truck and snap photos. If "Sutton" e-mails them to me, I'll post them. But she hasn't yet.

It was pretty incredible. A pinpoint landing in rough weather, backed up by carefully coordinated spotters in radio contact. They knew the other balloon was down, and a team was helping them, too.

By the time we got back to eat Terri's delicious salmon - retrieving Eileen's discarded wine glass along the way - the food was cold. Delicious, but stone cold.

It was worth it.