“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked the young man who was fiddling with some ropes. “I’m Willow and this is my friend George.”
“And I’m Rod. Feel free to check out my airship. I call her Molly.” He opened a little gate. “Come aboard. I’m happy to answer any questions you might have.”
Willow tugged George into the basket. “Look at that.” She pointed up. “You can see theinsideof the balloon.”
George peered up to see the striped interior illuminated bythe sunlight overhead. “Is that a propane heater?” he asked Rod.
“That’s right.” Rod stepped inside to demonstrate how it worked. “See how the hot air goes straight up through the envelope?”
“The envelope?” George asked.
“That’s what we call the opening to the balloon.” Rod cranked the flame higher.
“Don’t you worry about it catching on fire?” George frowned with concern as Rod tampered with the propane.
“Nah. It’s easy to control.”
“How do you control the balloon once it’s in the air?” George asked.
Rod chuckled. “That’s pretty much up to the wind.”
“Make way.” Rod nudged George and Willow back as a man and two young boys entered the basket. Rod welcomed them, explaining the balloon basics as they all stood crowded into the small basket. George was about to say “excuse me” and ask to get past the newcomers when Rod closed the gated entryway and yelled instructions to the ground crew. “Anchors aweigh!” he said, and suddenly the balloon began to lift.
“Wait a minute!” George felt his stomach lurching. “We’re still on here.”
“Up, up, and away,” Willow sang out happily. “This is your big surprise, George. We’re going for a balloon ride.”
“I’mnot going.”George grasped the edge, leaning over to see, and he stared down in complete shock. They had to be at least twenty feet up and quickly climbing higher. “Let me out of this crazy thing!” he yelled wildly.
Rod just laughed. “You’ll be okay, George. Just enjoy the ride.”
“What’s wrong with that man?” the smaller boy asked.
“He’s scared.” The older boy snickered.
As the dad quieted his sons, George felt his knees turn to jelly and his stomach go upside down—similar to the sensation of being in an elevator.
“Isn’t this wonderful,” Willow chirped at him. “Look how beautiful it is with the other balloons lifting off.”
George continued to cling to the basket railing. Closing his eyes, he felt clammy and shaky and sick ... on the verge of throwing up. This was too much! Way too much!
“Are you okay?” Willow looked at him with concern. “You’re so pale, George.”
“I—I’m sick.” He opened his eyes, wondering if she’d planned this whole thing—intentionally.
“I’m sorry.” She put her hand over his. “Take some deep breaths. Try to relax, George. You’re perfectly safe. This will be fun. You’ll see.”
“I—I don’t like heights,” he whispered. “I—I can’t do this.”
“Here.” Rod helped George to sit down on an upside-down bucket then handed him a bottle of water. “Take some slow sips and some deep breaths.”
George’s hand trembled as he opened the bottle, gingerly sipping and trying to breathe. What if he threw up all over the place? Or worse yet, what if he had a heart attack up here? How long would it take to get down and to get help? As he sat on the bucket, slowly sipping and trying to breathe, he could hear the others commenting on how amazing and beautiful the view was up here. The boys were taking turns snapping photos with their dad’s phone, acting as if it were perfectly normal to be floating up in the air like this. Didn’t they know that this balloon couldget punctured or go up in flames—and that they would all plummet to the ground?
“Don’t you want to see it?” Willow asked George. He simply shook his head no, and she returned to the railing to look down.
After several minutes of trying to compose himself, George began to feel silly. What was wrong with him? He forced himself to stand, but his legs felt like noodles. Using the rail of the basket to support himself, he took a deep breath, then looked down. They were so far up that a fresh wave of panic swept over him. Without saying a word, he returned to the bucket and sat down. Leaning over he held his head in his hands and longed for this torture to end.
“How you doing, George?” Rod asked lightly.
