CRASH LANDING IN A HOT AIR BALLOON!

Back in late June of 1997, I was Director of Marketing & Promotions for a failing Classical radio station. I joined management after five years on the air. At the time, there were 26 Classical stations nationwide of a total 14,000 in the U.S. My job was to merge together two departments and join a small team consisting of an Engineer and a Program Director to salvage the failing FM station. Bob Dylan was right. "When yah ain't got nothin', you got nothin'to loose" and truth be told, we were "swirling around the drain" in Arbitron ratings. So I decided to pull out all the stops and hype us a "Bach and Roll" station with a ton of stunts, contests, trips to operas, symphony festivals, cruises with fabulous ship, hotel and air accommodations--132 events a year. We produced outdoor wind band and symphony concerts, executed a multi-stage "Sun Fest" type concert in August-- all of that sort of thing. We tried giving away a Harley Davidson motorcycle, conducting "A Wedding On A Plane" live during "morning drive", broadcasting on the roof of a highway tollbooth, you name it. Well, I received a call from a Balloon Festival in East Texas asking if I'd be willing to be the Official Marshall. I said "sure". Balloon festivals are exciting and produce dazzling displays of color, especially at dusk the night before lift-off when the "Glow" takes place (operators light up their customized multi-colored balloons with a burst of propane gas and the colorful art designs, tethered to the ground, glow beautifully for miles). Flying in one was going to be my first. Since I write for a commercial aviation magazine, I knew a bit about what to expect. The morning of the flight, at 6:30 A.M. we had breakfast at a Holiday Inn--a banana with coffee and yogurt, and received an FAA briefing. I was assigned to a retired Delta Airline pilot who was making his first flight since losing a daughter, 30, to Cancer. His other daughter was racing her own balloon against us. These ships average $50,000 each, so it's an expensive hobby. I was on a cell phone with a portable FM radio clipped to my belt and a headset worn over one ear to enable me to stay in touch with our station for frequent progress reports--much hype but fun! We boarded the craft. Of course there is no steering left or right--you either ascend or descend. I coordinated by phone with our PD who doubled as our affable "Morning DJ" and we played Victor Young's Overture from the movie "Around the World in 80 Days" precisely at liftoff. I know--cheesy but hell, we needed ratings! I was watching our altimeter: 200, 500, 700, 1000-we settled around 1,200 feet! I was white-knuckled. The competition involved finding a big white colored "X" on the ground, descend to 50 feet, and I'd throw a bean bag with our ship's name on it as close to the mark as possible and we'd start climbing again and race on to the next spot. By now, I was beginning to relax a bit and enjoy this new game. After 45 minutes it was time to land. We drifted over an Interstate Highway and rows of cars were pulled to the side of the birm honking horns and waving. My pilot and I waved back enthusiastically. We were ahead of the "Snoopy the Dog" balloon and a department store's craft. We crossed a highway at about 65 feet and began drifting over a barn when my pilot uttered, "Oh damn! Brace your knees when we hit, we've got a down draft!!". Famous last words. Through my headset I heard our "Morning DJ" throw it to me on live radio "Let's check on Michael to see how he's doing. Michael?, Michael? Are you with us?" At that moment we impacted 20 feet from a barn and after the basket struck the ground hard we rose 30 feet, then the basket tilted trapping my pilot behind the propane tanks and burner unit until we struck the ground with the basket sideways. I was impact-ejected, but my tennis shoes became snagged on the propane tank valve stems and kept me from being thrown clear. Our now deflated colorful envelope (balloon material) and I were being dragged 30 feet along the ground. We both had the wind knocked out of us and I had scrapes on both arms. As soon as I could get some air into my lungs, I immediately lunged to pull back the propane tanks to free my pilot who had wisely shut them off fast. He ordered me out to begin folding the envelope. Other balloonists who had landed ahead of us ran to our craft to help. In my headset, I could hear our DJ ad libbing about what might have possibly happened and callers to the station were reporting seeing us disappear behind a barn on farm property. I called the station from the cell phone and looked up to see the "Snoopy the Dog" balloon coming in for a landing smooth as silk. I went on the air and described the incident with my head fairly intact. Afterwards, a truck came to collect our balloon and we caught rides to the parking lot that was our starting point. Then at 9 A.M. the entire group of balloonists gathered around me, placed a plastic cup filled with Champagne in my hand and we all held up our glasses for a toast. Since I was their "Guest", they sang two loud Irish songs in my honor (my first name was inserted in the lyrics). Then we downed two toasts and went our separate ways. I later learned this custom dates back to the 1780's. Balloonists carried a bottle of Champagne aboard as a goodwill gesture to angry farmers on whose fields the balloonists would land. Something I'm sure Sir Richard Branson understands quite well!