I never had one bit of interest in watching hot air balloons lift off until they were scheduled to do so around the corner from the Wurlitzer and a couple of favorite people were game enough to brave freezing temperatures on a Saturday morning to watch them take flight.
The scene was the now familiar dusty field behind the courthouse with scattered vendors hawking wind-powered lawn ornamentation. Many of the patterns looked like they were straight out of the 1970s, a reference no doubt bolstered by the booming soundtrack of classic rock radio and the nonchalance with which large amounts of propane pumped into open enclosures at close proximity to small children and dogs.
At one point there was uncertainty that the balloons would be able to lift off, due to concerns about them landing on Pueblo land. This was communicated by a rally participant and I’m not sure I totally understood the gist of all that was at stake. Ultimately, they did all get up into the air, many of which landing shortly thereafter in an almost comedic anti-climax in adjacent fields, signaling an apt time to wander home and reheat numb toes.
