Many years ago, I was invited to take a ride in the Blockbuster blimp for my birthday.
Yup. That many years ago. When renting video tapes was a thing. Arriving at a small airport in Northeast Philadelphia, I was startled by the size of the huge bullet-shaped “balloon.” Six strong men struggled to hold the blimp steady via long ropes. My friend yelled out, “This is going to be a hell of a ride!”
I saw an inconceivably small oval cockpit hanging beneath this floating behemoth.
I decided the butterflies in my stomach were from excitement as we squeezed into our seats. Since it was my birthday, I had the front seat next to the pilot. Lucky me. In a flash, those strong men were waving as our little engine chugged us forward. It was surreal.
I thought of the Chitty Chitty Bang Bang movie while watching neighborhoods glide beneath us.
My husband’s seatbelt wasn’t secure and our gracious host in the miniature back seat wasn’t much help. “No worries” said the pilot as he reached back to adjust the belt. No worries? The nose of the blimp moved rapidly toward the ground, giving me a full appreciation for the term, “nosedive.”
Those butterflies weren’t only in my stomach anymore.
The pilot turned back and casually righted the blimp. “See, nothing to worry about.” Funny guy. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Immediately that familiar sensation of nausea came over me. It never crossed my mind that a lifetime of motion sickness within all moving vehicles might extend to a blimp ride. I immediately got into management mode as I relaxed my body, set my gaze forward, and began breathing deeply. Placing myself in an aware trance state, I focused the delight of flying.
“Kathy! Take a look. Your husband is turning green.”
Apparently we shared an affinity for blimp sickness. Well, that man was on his own. The pilot suggested they open a window. In a blimp? Good grief. The backseat duo couldn’t get the damned window open, so the pilot reached back and battled with the sticky window.
Another nosedive while moving through rough wind currents.
Happy birthday to me. I quietly scanned for an airsick bag. Nothing. As fresh air blew through our tiny capsule, I made a quick decision. I was gonna totally enjoy this novel experience. I decided my butterflies found it thrilling. After all, how often do you float over neighborhoods, rivers, and highways? I even snapped a photo of Philadelphia before we were turned away from the restricted city air space.
I gratefully realized I was halfway through my birthday adventure without losing my cookies.
My celebration was interrupted when the pilot asked if we were interested in heading to Willow Grove to see if we could fly in the air show. Since I didn’t think I’d be flying fighter jets in the future, might as well try to show up in a blimp. When else would I get a chance to be in an air show?
