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Published: September 25th 2012
Our alarm clock went off at 3:15 in the morning for this. I had bragged to all my friends back home, "I'm taking a hot air balloon ride over Luxor...how cool
am I?" They'd say, "Oh, that is amazing. You're so brave. You do the most adventurous things on your trips..."
Well, besides seeming like an adventurous once-in-a-lifetime thing to do, I also thought it would help me conquer my fear of heights. They say when you have a fear you should face it head on. I get sweaty palms climbing the ladder to clean my windows in the spring. Surely after floating for an hour high above Egypt I'd finally get over being afraid of heights. So, we signed up for the hot air balloon ride.
I should of known that no good can come from anything that starts at 3 a.m. I think my mother warned me of this at some point. Anyway, sound judgment is not always my strong suit, so up in the balloon I went.
Was it beautiful and romantic watching the sunrise over Luxor? No. I had that warm fuzzy feeling for a whole fifteen seconds before the quick breathing, heart pounding,
teeth chattering, ohmygoodness "why don't I take a Xanax?" feeling took over. The couples around me were so calm and sweet. The girlfriends nuzzled up to their boyfriends' chests, sharing a loaf of fresh bread and sipping coffee from a carafe, taking photos of each other with the orange Egyptian sun just peeking over the horizon. I wanted to sink to the floor and practice all that Lamaze breathing that's completely useless in childbirth.
At 500 feet up I thought I could handle it. It didn't seem too far to fall and I could get a nice view of the rooftops, the temples, the Nile and hear all the dogs barking below. But the balloon's pilot kept climbing and climbing til we reached 1,500 feet and just stayed there for what seemed like forever. My face burned under the heat of the fire and the pilot kept making stupid jokes and pumping the propane valve to the beat of European techno music.
After an hour of this nonsense we finally began making our descent. Relief settled in and I enjoyed the slow floating from the sky. The pilot annouced "Take landing position!" which meant we had to crouch
down below the rim of the basket and brace ourselves landing.
I couldn't see how quickly the ground was approaching. Then I felt tree limbs snapping. Branches cracking. The basket filled with dust and leaves. People started screaming.
I'm not sure how in the world you can manage to hit the one patch of trees in the middle of the desert. It was wonderful. Hitting trees meant we were no longer floating listlessly 1,000 feet in the air. A huge grin spread across my face and I told the girl next to me, "Finally this is fun!"
After snapping a row of scrawny trees our balloon dragged and tipped. Dirt was flying, people were falling all over each other, women were screaming. But we were on land!
As our basket finally tipped and spilled all of us out into a ditch you could divide the group into thirds. One-third were hyperventiling, one-third sobbing, and the other third (which included yours truly) were laughing hysterically.
We crawled out of the basket and scattered like mice. That's when the mosquitos attacked. What a sight we were; all of us tourists crying, screaming, laughing manically, flailing our arms,
smacking our skin, and swating into thin air trying to defend ourselves against the bugs.
The chaser vans showed up after we'd all had sufficient time to get our composure and be sufficiently feasted upon.
So that was my experience conquering heights.
I should of known better. No good comes from anything that starts at 3 in the morning.
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Edwina Finet
non-member comment
Would you do it again?
What awesome pictures and a great story. I felt as though I was there with you. Thanks for sharing.