I gathered myself and focused on the wicker basket, which looked even smaller now that the balloon was mounted above it. The balloon still was filling with hot air expelled from a unit that shot intense flames up into the expanding space. The balloon was a beautiful, colorful, fat, King Kong–sized monster, looming high and wide above that small basket. And here we were, on the threshold of Kellie’s wish.
Jeremy clambered into the basket first and then held out his hand to me. I was supposed to climb up on a box and step over the edge of the basket onto another box and then find my place to stand inside the basket. Easy.
Only my feet didn’t move. “Kellie, you want to go first?”
“No, go ahead, Liz. I’ve got your back …” She wisely didn’t finish her sentence.
This was harder than I thought it would be. I told my pounding heart to calm down and just enter into the moment. This was a rare opportunity. This was Kellie’s wish.
And we already had paid for it.
“I’ll tell you now, there is no dainty way to go aboard,” Andrea said loudly over the roar of the flame shooting into the cavernous belly of Kong. She was standing to the side, holding one of the thick tethering ropes with gloved hands. “Just swing one leg over the edge, and you’ll be in good shape.”
With one foot in front of the other, I climbed up on the box. Then, trying to steady myself, I held on to the edge of the basket.
Jeremy adjusted the flame, and the air went astonishingly still.
Kellie had honored my request not to mention or draw attention to my backside all the way across the field. However, it seemed she couldn’t resist offering a single line at the precise moment that I followed Andrea’s advice and looped my right leg into the basket.
“I guess it’s true. Every cloud does have a silver lining.”
I tried to ignore her, but my smile broke through, and I let a nervous flutter of embarrassed laughter tumble into the basket before I did. And tumble is the key word. My footing wasn’t secure, and I’m sure I came close to dislocating Jeremy’s arm as I tried to steady myself. Once I had both feet firmly in the basket, I laughed myself silly.
I looked at Kellie just impishly enough to let her know I would get her back later. In the sweetest way possible, of course.
Jeremy directed me where to stand, and I took my small, small place as compactly as I could. He put one hand on the controls that regulated the on-and-off switch for the blaze and made an adjustment.
The flame kicked up again with a mighty roar.
“Next.” Jeremy held out his hand to Kellie. She took the first step up, grasped his forearm, and managed to climb over the wicker rampart without too much trouble. I’m not saying it was a pretty entrance, but it was controlled, swift, and much more elegant than mine.
“Show-off,” I muttered playfully.
“Actually, I think your show was much better than mine. Acrobatics are always a crowd pleaser.”
Before I could continue the banter, we started going up. We were moving slowly, as if we were in an elevator. We were leaving the earth below us, defying gravity, and making a smooth ascent. The moment was thrilling.
I looked over at Kellie. She was beaming.
Below us, Andrea waved.
Kellie waved back. I just held on and smiled.
The flame in the center of the basket seemed like a super-sized Bunsen burner. Jeremy turned it off. All was calm. We kept floating upward. The sensation wasn’t so much that we were moving but that the earth was pulling away from us.
The world around us was strikingly silent. We heard a lamb bleat from a field far below, and the sound was so crisp and clear it seemed as if the lamb were only a few feet away.
“It’s so quiet,” Kellie whispered.
Jeremy nodded. “That’s the first thing everyone says.”
“How can we be moving?” Kellie asked. “It feels like the breeze stopped.”
“We’re moving with the air currents.”
“This is amazing,” Kellie cooed. “What a sensation of tranquillity.”
Kellie and I stood with our feet firmly planted in the basket, taking in the expanding view of the countryside below us. The field had transformed into a dusty green patchwork quilt. Low stone walls formed straight lines between the patches. White, woolly sheep dotted some of the squares and rectangles of land. They became smaller and smaller as we rose above it all. It felt as if we were floating along in a raft on a calm river, only instead of water, the air current provided the silent river on which we bobbed.
All my apprehensions, real and imagined, seemed to have stayed behind on planet Earth. We were free birds, soaring above it all. I felt that initial taste of victory, such as when I’m trying a new recipe for company, and it seems everything is turning out the way it’s supposed to.
The burner fired up again. Kellie and I both flinched. We smiled at each other and then smiled at Jeremy as if to tell him we had made peace with the dragon’s breath. We needed the bellowing beast’s fire at its unexpected intervals to keep us aloft. We rose and caught a different current that floated us toward a small pond. At least from our vantage point it appeared to be a small pond. As we gently were lowered back to earth, the pond became larger.
“On some rides I’ve been able to lower the basket so that we skim the water. But don’t worry; I don’t plan to try it today.” Jeremy fired up the heat, and we rose. When all was quiet again he said, “The currents aren’t usually so cooperative this time of day. We generally go up in the morning or the evening if it’s warm enough. This is an exceptional day.”
“Yes, it is an exceptional day,” Kellie agreed. “What beautiful countryside.”
I didn’t have the words right then to describe everything my eyes as well as my other senses were taking in. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it.
“My camera!” Kellie reached into her coat pocket. “I almost forgot I brought it.”
“I get copies of all your pictures, okay?” At the moment I wasn’t sure where I had left my camera, and I wasn’t going to let go of the basket’s edge to search my coat.
“Smile for me, Liz!” Kellie took dozens of digital shots. Jeremy took several of both of us and then a few of Kellie by herself, her expression still lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning.
I stood in my spot inside the basket, feeling as stable as if I were standing on a cement slab. Taking in a 360-degree view, I soaked it all in. We floated up and down and over a blissful corner of God’s green Earth.
The peaceful sensation was lulling. All we had to do was float. The effortlessness of our movement calmed me and made me wonder what I’d been so afraid of when Kellie had suggested this last night. What a tragedy it would have been if I had missed the moment. Risk has its rewards, and today the reward was a sumptuous feast for all the senses.
We could tell our amazing ride on the air currents was concluding as the land below us seemed to rise up to meet us with open arms. Andrea and the others in the chase vehicle waited at the edge of a different field than the one we had taken off from. She waved as we descended, and we could hear clearly every word she and the guys were saying. It was a strange sensation.
As the earth steadily drew closer, I felt the instinct to brace myself for the crash. Jeremy had assured us he could land us without crashing. “We may experience a few bumps, though,” he said.
I counted only two bumps, along with an overt swaying back and forth before our spacecraft came to a stop. Then it was over. I didn’t want to get out.
But with a little help from the crew, Kellie and I both managed to make commendable exits. Not graceful, but not worth the price of a circus ticket either.
“I have to sit down.” I plopped onto the grass.
“Do your legs feel wobbly?” Andrea asked.
“A little. I just feel …”
“Awed?” Kellie concluded for me.
“Yes, awed.”
She sat beside me, and we grinned at each other. Kellie said, “That was so …”
“Incredible?” I ventured.
“Yes. Incredible and peaceful. I loved it.” She turned to Andrea and Jeremy. “Thanks so, so much. This was my wish for a long time.”
“That makes it all the better,” Andrea said. “It’s been our pleasure. I’ll drive you back to the hotel when you’re ready. Jeremy and the crew are meeting another party shortly.”
“We’re ready whenever you are,” Kellie said.
I rose from the grass first, and Kellie followed. The two of us said our farewells and thank-yous to Jeremy, Sven, and the crew, and then we walked across the field to the van.
“Uh, Lizzie?” Kellie called out from her position behind me. “I know I promised I wouldn’t make a comment about …”
“I know. It’s okay. I thought the silver lining joke was hilarious. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, it’s no longer just a silver lining. You have daisies on your …”
“What?” I gave the back of my torn jeans a brush with both hands and found that the sticky part of the duct tape had peeked through the rip and collected a bouquet of spring treasures. No, I didn’t have daisies growing out of my backside, but I did have grass, clover, and a tiny weed of some sort with white leaves.
“Kellie!”
“What? Do you want me to help weed your portable little flower garden? Sorry, my acts of friendship only go so far.”
I brushed off the remaining flora and fauna and called out to Andrea. “Don’t bother taking us to the hotel. Take us directly to the first clothing store we come to.”
Kellie chuckled. I glanced at her and knew she was dying to make another joke. By the shade of rose creeping up her neck, it was undoubtedly a good one.
“Go ahead,” I said. “Spit it out.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
In a singsong voice she said, “I see London. I see France. I see someone’s underpants.”
If I hadn’t been feeling still so humiliated, I would have laughed until I cried. It probably would have been good for me.
Instead of laughing with Kellie, I listed the flaws in her song. “I know my underwear isn’t showing, and as for ‘seeing London,’ I’m beginning to doubt that is ever going to happen.”
“Of course it’s going to happen,” Kellie said. “Come on. Our carriage awaits us.”
I took the first step.
Kellie followed, singing out, “Duct, duct …” Then with a tag on my backside, she said, “Goose!” and took off running for the van.
I laughed so hard I thought I was going to rip the duct tape.
You know,” Andrea said once the three of us were in the car, “according to ballooning tradition, first-time balloonists shake a bottle of champagne and pop it open when they land. Then they pick up a handful of dirt and rub it in their hair. Some balloonists keep that tradition alive with every first-time passenger.”
“I’m glad you didn’t include that tradition for our ride,” I said. “I think I managed to muss myself up enough without spraying champagne or tossing any more earth around. And I was serious, by the way, about going shopping instead of going back to the hotel.”
Andrea drove us to a rather upscale clothing store in Oxford. She graciously offered to wait for us in the car. I took a quick look around but didn’t find anything I wanted to bother trying on.
Returning to the hotel, we thanked Andrea again for the memorable adventure. I changed into the other pair of pants I had brought, and Kellie and I managed to get ourselves to the train station and on the right train out of Oxford. At long last we were on our way to London.
“I’m starving,” Kellie said soon after the train pulled out of the Oxford station. “Have we eaten anything today?”
“We had tea and those tiny muffins for breakfast.”
“That was all, wasn’t it? Is it teatime yet?”
“Your stomach already is thinking British. Tea does sound great right about now. I’ll see if this train has a dining car or snack cart or something.” Off I went, walking toward the caboose as the train moved forward. The sensation was similar to trying to walk up a downward moving escalator.
My sleuthing paid off with the discovery of a compact and sort of cute dining car that offered beverages and premade sandwiches. I bought an egg salad sandwich on white bread for us to split and two hot cups of tea.
When I returned to our seats, Kellie was bent over my compiled pages of London sights. She was making notes in the margins with her usual tiny printed letters. It was one of the many differences between us that we had friendly squabbles about. Kellie is nearsighted, while I am farsighted. I had to put on my reading glasses if I wanted to go over her notes.
“Thanks for the sandwich. This is perfect. I’m thinking we should take a taxi from the train station and go directly to the hotel. We could use the underground, but why hassle with the luggage?”
“I agree.”
“We should be okay on our check-in time with the hotel. After we settle in our room, if you’re still hungry, we could find a place to eat.”
“Sounds good. What do you think about trying to make it to a play tonight?”
“I was looking at the information you pulled together. We have lots of options, but I’m thinking we should try to book tickets for a play either tomorrow night or maybe Saturday afternoon. That way we aren’t so rushed.”
I appreciated Kellie’s organizational skills and her logic, but the truth was I did feel rushed, and I told her so.
“We have so much to see and do in London, and—I’m not complaining—but our first two days are gone. Not that I would have changed anything we’ve done or seen yesterday and today, it’s just that …”
I kind of wanted Kellie to pull a Lady Ebb and finish my sentence for me. I wanted her to verbalize how behind we were on all the doing-and-seeing options listed on the papers in her lap.
Kellie didn’t validate my panic, though. She took another bite of her sandwich and waited for me to complete my thought.
“There’s so much,” I concluded.
“So much what?”
“So much to see and do.”
“Then we should prioritize,” Kellie said. “Let’s each pick our top five. Even if we only get to do or see two or three of our top five wonders of London in the next three days, we’ll be doing great.”
“Three days,” I repeated, too glum to eat any more of the pasty egg-and-mayonnaise sandwich. “Why didn’t we plan to stay longer?”
“Because Opal set the schedule, remember? We can accomplish a lot in three days if we organize ourselves.”
I couldn’t believe I was pouting. I was on a train bound for London, after having spent two incredible days in Oxford and Olney, but I was acting like a spoiled brat. “You know what? I’m not going to go glum over the shortness of our stay. Whatever we do here is going to be—”
“Fantastic.”
“You’re right, Kellie. Even if we went home right now, I would feel as if I had experienced the adventure of a lifetime.”
“But we can’t go home yet because of you-know-who.”
“Who?”
“Your big crush.”
“Oh, of course. You remembered.” I smiled at the prospects waiting for us in the next few days. “My crush, Ben Baby. He’s number one on my list.”
“I thought so.”
Skimming through the pages, Kellie and I took turns composing our lists. True to many other parts of our friendship, Kellie’s list and mine were opposites. We had agreed years ago that opposites really did attract; our friendship was proof of that.
My top five were right out of a travel brochure for London: Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle, and a play in the theater district.
“What did you come up with?” I asked Kellie.
“Portobello Road Market, Harrods, Crown Jewels at the Tower of London, Windsor Castle, and a museum.”
“Which museum?”
“I
’m not sure yet. According to your helpful research here, we can see Egyptian mummies at the British Museum, original Shakespeare scripts at the British Library, or Rembrandt self-portraits at the National Gallery.”
“I know. It’s like I said. There’s so much to see and do.”
“What I really want to see is Morris furniture and tapestries, but they weren’t listed here, and I don’t remember the name of the museum Rose and Opal said we should visit.”
“The V and A,” I said. “I think it was the Victoria and Albert Museum.”
“Perfect! I just saw that one on this map. The Victoria and Albert Museum is practically across the street from Harrods department store.”
Kellie and I combined our top must-sees, and she transferred them to a single list. Nice and tidy, just the way she liked things. We located each sight on a map, combined destinations, and tossed around runner-up choices. Our list of add-on adventures grew.
Kellie reminded me of our agreement to be flexible and let this trip unfold at its own pace. So far, nothing had gone the way I thought it would, but all of it had been wonderful.
I stepped back and let Kellie take the lead. She had all the information with her now. The hotel reservations were in her name. I didn’t mind being the hunter-gatherer-turned-follower.
The train pulled into Paddington Station. We waited to be among the last off the train so we could get off without bumping into anyone with our wheeled luggage. A variety of commuters but no other tourists appeared to be in our train car. As we walked through the station, though, we saw lots of travelers, with bags of every sort and shape.
Kellie and I kept looking up at the high ceiling’s design. Metal beams ran through the clear dome above us, creating the appearance of an elaborate series of wrought-iron veins.
“Do you remember the story of Paddington Bear?” I asked. “Both of my girls received stuffed Paddington Bears from my mother for Christmas one year.”
“Is he the bear with the floppy hat and the luggage tag tied to his little raincoat?”
“That’s Paddington. And this is his train station.”
Outside we spotted a taxi stand and joined the line of three luggage-toting visitors. We had noticed a few times on our journey that people seemed to line up with the same amount of space between each person. It reminded me of being taught as a child to line up without “touching your neighbor.” The only place where it seemed Brits hadn’t lined up was at the bar in the pub. There I had noticed it was like moths to a porch light.