I've Never Ridden in a Hot Air Balloon

A couple of weekends ago, I went to visit my friend, Kristina, in Ohio.  Kristina and I were besties way back in high school, but haven't lived in the same state since then.  It's really quite a remarkable feat that we are still friends, but I suppose there's a certain level of bonding that happens when you live together during your most awkward of years (aka high school). 

So, Kristina was very devoted to making sure we did things that I could add to this blog, which led to 4 jam-packed days.  Not everything we did was new – like the escape room (though in this one, we were literally handcuffed together and dressed in orange jumpsuits) and the whole belting the entire Wicked soundtrack as off-key as we could manage (sorry to everyone else in that car). 

And while I will someday (hopefully) get around to blogging about our other adventures, the first epic experience we did in Cleveland was hot air ballooning!  This has been on my bucket list for a long time, and while it was very expensive, I think we got a relatively good deal on it. 

We ended up meeting the people running the show at a high school and then hopped in their car to go find an open field to take off in.  When we got to the open field, they then started to put it together with the aid of a couple of the guys there with us for the ride.  They had the balloon bundled up inside the back of a truck and so they started pulling it out and it just kept going and going and going.  I knew the balloon had to be big but daaang.  It was twice as long as I had expected it to be. 

They connected it to the basket which was turned on its side and then started filling the balloon up with air.  This took a little while and finally they had it inflated and facing the right direction, at which point we basically just jumped in the basket.  The hot air is what then makes the balloon actually rise, so our pilot (I'm not sure what else to call him) started lighting the flame above us and we took off very smoothly.  I was surprised how quickly we rose and traveled away from where we had started. In a matter of seconds, the rest of the balloon crew were tiny little ants. 

Overall, the balloon ride was very peaceful and relaxing.  However, the flame did get rather annoying by the end of it. It's not really that far above your head and so when the flame is lit, it's REALLY hot. A couple of times I happened to be looking up when it was lit and my eyes would be in instant pain! But even if you're looking down, your scalp starts to feel like it's on fire if the flame is on long enough.  It's never really lit for more than a few seconds at a time so it's bearable but still…I can't say a burning sensation is ever a pleasant feeling.  Additionally, the flame is pretty loud. The combination of the sporadic heat and noise was giving me a headache by the end of the ride.

Being up in the balloon was definitely a unique experience. For me at least, it didn't invoke any kind of fear.  You know how sometimes when you're looking over the edge of a cliff, you get this weird tingly feeling shooting through your body that's like "Alert! Alert! You can die!"  (or maybe that's just me), but in any case, I never got that.  There was absolutely nothing scary about being in the sky inside a basket. Occasionally when I would stare down at the ground for a long time, I would start to feel a little dizzy from the viewpoint of looking straight down but that was really it.  The weather was absolutely perfect though, and we saw some really beautiful views.  It was cool seeing our reflection in lakes and our shadow across trees. We also saw some wildlife and being up so high, we could hear things below really well.  There were a few times where we heard dogs barking or children yelling but I couldn't see them.

We ended up landing in a muddy field with a TON of bugs which was super gross.  The landing was kind of cool though. We touched down and then bounced up a few feet and came down again and repeated a couple of times until we finally came to a complete stop. 

After everything was packed up (bugs included), we then had drinks where we toasted to life (don't worry mom, I just had sparkling cider). Apparently this is a tradition that everyone does after hot air balloon rides.  Long story short, the first ever guys to try out a hot air balloon ride were mistaken for aliens when they crash landed in some farmer's field.  So for the second time, they took up bottles of champagne with them so that when they came down, they could prove they were from this world.  I love how alcohol is apparently the symbol of Earth.

I've Never Gone to a Las Vegas Bachelorette Party

A good friend, and former roommate, of mine is getting married.

And girl. Loves. Vegas.

When I lived with her, she would go to Las Vegas frequently and as much as she and her sister tried to convince me to come along, I never did. Although they acted disappointed at the time, I’m going to venture a guess that after the weekend I finally spent with them they are retroactively grateful for my multiple declined invitations.

Her bachelorette party was a weekend in Vegas and this was one invite I couldn’t turn down. I had RSVP’d in the affirmative months before the set date but as it loomed nearer I started to have second thoughts. It was the weekend after we returned from our month long excursion in Europe, the only other girl I knew had backed out, and I was really tired. But because offending people is one of my biggest fears, I sucked it up and made the solo drive right after work on a Friday afternoon.

A giant mansion (80s themed… or maybe just really behind on interior updates) was rented and 20 girls slowly filled its rooms. I spent most of Friday afternoon and evening lounging at the private pool and thinking to myself, “this is awesome.” Why, I wondered to myself, had I even questioned this? A pool? Palm trees? A grumpy old man neighbor who hated us? It was perfect.

That night we did some fun, bachelorette-centered games that were adorable and very well executed. We got to know the bride and the groom a little bit, made some inappropriate jokes, and “oohed” and “awed” at all things wedding. Then we ate food and gabbed (because one doesn’t talk at a bachelorette party, one gabs) until we all agreed that it was late and we went to bed.

So far, this is wonderful.

Saturday happened, though, and kicked me so far out of my comfort zone that I needed to drive 4.5 hours back to Provo to find it again. The day started as lovely as the last had ended. I woke up before most, got myself situated at the pool with a good book, and immediately burned to a crisp: my regular summer routine. Girls trickled out of their rooms, some went shopping, others ate, napped, swam, etc. It was a beautiful, low-key morning. Then our first appointment came around:

POLE DANCING

To be fair, I had originally decided not to participate in the group pole dancing class. I had knee surgery last year and I wasn’t sure it would be good for me. At least that’s the excuse I gave when not signing up for it. The real reason, of course, being that I’m horribly awkward and uncomfortable with overt displays of sexuality.

When the time came, enough other girls had bailed on the whole weekend that there was an open spot and I was the only one not going. So, yes, I was peer-pressured into it. And I thought it would be a memorable blog post.

There’s not really too much I can say about it except that I was terrible. And that I was right to fake worry about my knee. In fact, I should have real-life worried about my knee because the poor little thing took a beating. Who knew there was so much crawling involved in sexual objectification? (Probably literally every other person in the world).

It was a sexy dance class with poles. We learned a routine and took turns performing it for the other half of the group. The varying degrees of ability were hilarious, ranging from me as a floundering beached whale to “break this $20 into singles, please!”-level talent. I’m not entirely convinced that every girl there was a novice.

We were also taught how to give a lap dance but I just spent most of that 20 minutes in the fetal position on the floor laughing. Let’s just quickly move onto the next item on the agenda:

FANCY CLOTHES AND DINNER

Self-explanatory.

The next activity was one I did not participate in:

THUNDER FROM DOWN UNDER

I drove a large portion of the party there but then I opted to return to the house instead of pay a ton of money for a strip show. Call me crazy, but I much preferred sitting alone at the side of the pool, listening to sad, emotional music, staring at the three stars that were brighter than the nearby light pollution, and planning overly cheesy romantic encounters with celebrities in my head. Admittedly, this was probably my favorite part about the weekend. I think I’m a closet introvert.

LIMO RIDE

An hour later, I joined the rest of the party for a limo ride up and down the strip. I was very much looking forward to this since I’ve never been in a limo. Unfortunately, I have still never been in a limo. Somehow the hot pink limo that was ordered was changed to a party bus. I do not think mine was the only disappointed face. We all rallied, though, and made the most of it. And by “the most of it” I mean I was car sick the entire time, they played club-like music that didn’t help the pounding headache and, oh my, alcohol smells like what I imagine Voldemort to smell like, which is to say terrible. There was also a lot of dancing (which has already been established as definitely NOT one of my talents) with strangers (who I hate). I think everyone else enjoyed it so that’s good.

DANCING

The final item on the schedule was to go clubbing. Now, mind you, it’s past 1am at this point. I’m old and tired and grumpy and sick and there’s no way I’m going dancing. Turns out I was not the only one who felt this way. I loaded up a few girls in my car (whose intoxication level is still undetermined) and we slowly made our way back to the house (slowed down by shiny slot machines, cat-calling men, and insane traffic). We got there and I made sure to park as close to the front gate as possible, already planning for my escape the next morning.

And my escape was swift. In the bright light of morning, however, my discomfort from the night before seemed laughable and I was actually sad to see the weekend end. I said my goodbyes to the lovely bride, her amazing sister, and the few girls who were starting to stir that early on a Sunday. I grabbed my adorable gift basket (with more phallic-shaped items then I knew existed) and headed home.

Although I sound like a huge grump, this was actually one of the most extravagant, well-planned, and fun weekends of my life. I’m not a Vegas person. I don’t think anyone who has met me would pretend to think so. But for one fun weekend I got to see how other people relax, blow off steam, have fun and build confidence.

It was a chance to learn, again, how unique and wonderful people can be. And how much I hate Vegas. J