Page 28 of Rush
“Bloody hell,” I cursed.
“Don’t sweat it, J,” he retorted. “Yoga makes you limber, but it doesn’t give you muscles.”
“Says who?”
He made a face. “Like I said, always ready for an argument.”
I yelped as the burner went off, and I slapped my hands on my head.
“Hold on, everyone. We’re ready to take off,” the pilot called out.
I grasped the edge of the basket as the balloon dragged us along the ground, then it skimmed the surface once more before finally taking off. We floated upward, the ground rushing away as we lifted. I clutched Ryan’s arm, wobbling as the unfamiliar sensation of uneven ground settled over me.
Then we were rising up into the sky as gentle as could be.
“Wow,” I murmured as the world took on a new perspective.
Other than the sound of the burner, it was so silent. Below us, the city was waking up with all its noise and drama, and up here…we were floating in a world of calm.
Leaning over for a better view, I gasped as I saw a balloon floating beneath us.
“Ryan,” I said, pointing. “Look.”
He stood beside me, his arm pressed against mine, and we watched the balloon rise, the insides lighting up as its burner fired.
“Wow,” he murmured. “That’s something else.”
All six balloons were in the air now, and as the sky brightened with the rising sun, the lights of Melbourne slowly began to switch off.
“Melbourne is the biggest city in the world that you can fly over in a hot air balloon,” the pilot was saying in the background.
“We’re as high as that office building,” Ryan said, pointing to one of the skyscrapers. “Imagine looking out the window and seeing a balloon float past.”
I laughed, feeling more comfortable with being so high up in the open air. Waving at the city, I giggled.
We coasted over the city for almost an hour, rising and dipping over famous landmarks like the Melbourne Cricket Ground, Southbank, Port Melbourne, St. Kilda, and the tallest building in the city, Eureka Tower. Watching the traffic build up over the Westgate Bridge, I was glad I wasn’t down there. It looked like a car park snaking over the bridge and into the south side of the CBD.
Finally, we began our descent into the field where we’d started our flight, and when the basket hit the ground, we braced and clapped as we settled back on terra firma.
“Was it everything you expected?” Ryan asked as we watched the balloon deflate.
“More,” I replied. “I wish I was a writer because I don’t know the right words to describe it.”
“How would you market it, then?”
I laughed and cast my gaze toward the last of the sunrise. “The spirit of the skies…” I mused. “An image of a brightly colored balloon, its burner firing, and the backdrop a sparkling Melbourne skyline tinted with the fire of a summer sunrise.”
“The fuck you’re not a writer,” he declared.
Doing our duty, we helped roll the balloon back up, then it was a short ride back to the hotel, and our adventure was over. I was still buzzing when Ryan turned me around and started leading me across the street.
“Where are we going?”
“Champagne breakfast,” he said, steering me into the hotel. “It’s part of the package.”
Sitting at a table for two, we were each presented with a flute of sparkling yellow champagne. Ryan raised his and tapped the rim against mine.
“Cheers,” he said with a wink.
