Up, Up and Away cont
Curiosity was sufficient to guarantee a good turn out on the appointed day. They gathered around the Barbie, beers in hand whilst Danny outlined his plan. The balloons were to be inflated and tied firmly to a garden chair where Danny would be seated. In preparation for the trip he had made a packet of sandwiches, would take a six pack to quench his thirst, and also his eldest son's air rifle.
"You planning to shoot pigeons, Danny?"
"Naw, I'm planning to shoot balloons out, one at a time and make a soft landing."
The men were all for this project, after a few beers it seemed a fine idea.
The ladies were more doubtful.
"What if those old balloons spring a leak?"
"What if you fell out of the sky?"
"You planning to let him do this, Ginny?"
"He got his heart set on it. I don't like it. But what the heck. I suppose a man's gotta do, what a man's gotta do."
Danny divided the party into those who would hold the chair steady and those who would inflate and attach the balloons. He seated himself in the garden chair, six pack beside him, sandwiches on his knee, air rifle crooked under one arm. The men enthusiastically began inflating balloons and attaching them to the framework of the chair with varying lengths of strong twine.
The day was perfect, the sun shone warmly and the sky was clear and blue. As each balloon was fastened he anticipated the pleasure of being suspended a few feet above the party in the garden. He would wave to them from his elevated height.
As the fortieth balloon was attached, the men holding it down had to exert more pressure as the chair with its passenger began an upward movement. When the forty fifth balloon was in place the lift was such that they could no longer restrain the chair and they released their hold, cheering loudly.
Danny had expected to rise to no more than around thirty feet. As the ascent began, he was thrilled to see everyone below cheering him on his way. Then they began to diminish. Far from hovering at a reasonable height as he had expected, he continued to rise, until the scene was much as one might expect from a plane, a huddle of buildings and motorways with tiny toy cars proceeding along them. The air became chill and fear took hold of Danny. Unbeknown to him, he had now reached a height of eleven thousand feet. He jettisoned both sandwiches and beer. They seemed of little relevance any more. He still clutched the rifle but dare not use it. He was shit scared up there but even more scared to deflate the balloons as he was now drifting in some current of air away from anything he recognised. He wanted to be down but what if he descended as quickly as he had risen, and where might he land?
Ginny gave a shriek when she saw her husband borne aloft, to become a small black speck in the sky. His two sons comforted her.
"Don't you worry. He'll be back."
The men were admiring.
"Good old Danny. He made it okay."
"Hey, let's drink a toast."
"To Danny the flyer."
They went on drinking beer and were unconcerned about their friend.
The women clustered around Ginny.
"What you gonna do? You should 'phone the cops."
"I'll give him some time. He won't like it when he comes down, if he finds the place swarming with cops. Might as well party 'til he gets back."
So they did indeed party on and in the general alcoholic haze that enfolded them Danny's plight gave rise only to ribaldry and jokes.
When night fell and the birdman had failed to return, the guests did think action was needed. They telephoned the cops but, unfortunately, the drunken rambling tale of a man in a garden chair drifting above the city was greeted with disbelief and hilarity down at the station.
Early next morning a jet aircraft beginning its descent for landing spotted the unbelievable sight of Danny drifting helplessly into the approach corridor leading to Los Angeles airport. So the pilot was able to pass on the information to the control tower that he had just seen an armed man in a garden chair at eleven thousand feet. A first for him or any pilot.
Plans were put into operation to rescue Danny, once the authorities were assured that the pilot's report was not a joke. The fact that Danny was clutching some sort of weapon gave rise to speculation that he might be some sort of fanatical terrorist and whether he was or was not, he was obviously not of sound mind. Whatever his motives, it was imperative that he be removed from the air as he constituted a danger to incoming and outgoing planes.
The rescue was not an easy one and Danny's return to earth, frightened, hungry and chilled to the bone was not the triumph he had hoped it to be. He had been forced, ignominiously, into a waiting van staffed by security men and put under close surveillance in a bare cell with no concern to provide him with food or warmth, His story was incredible and it was not until his wife had been contacted, to confirm the truth, that he was finally released.
That was the end of Danny's obsession with flight. Never again would he take to the air. His dream had ended in nightmare. From that day he remained earthbound.END. Pat Parkin
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