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Insane Inflation by Patrick Maurer
It was just too tough. I tried, but it was too tough. I couldn't blow up that next balloon. Yes, the fact that I had already blown up about 50 pink and purple balloons currently creating a nice mountain in the center of the living was probably a factor, but for me the real deal was the laughter. It's impossible to laugh and blow up a balloon at the same time--a smile just isn't appropriate facial expression. Go ahead and try. In moments like this you have to wonder how exactly you ended up in your current position. I was sitting in a living room with a hundred or so balloons surrounding me and a bag of a few hundred more to go--and yet I was in absolute hysterics.
I believe Kari had the idea initially. I was riding in the back seat of my cousin's car and I think it was his wife who tossed out the idea of balloons. Somehow or another we ended up at Party America, credit card in-hand, ready to purchase as many "pretty" polarized balloons as we possibly could paying close attention to color schemes. Actually we did a series of strange mathematical computations attempting to calculate the appropriate number (unfortunately our lack of estimation skills resulted in an additional trip the next day). Balloons in hand we returned to my cousin's place and prepared operation inflate.
The mission: Surprise the birthday girl and insure that this particular birthday would be forever ingrained in her memory. Success won't be truly known until she's about 80 or 90 and talking to great grandkids, but sometimes you have to just aim for the moon.
The target: The one and only Emma, an amazingly intelligent and charming young girl who has been a subject of several of my stories. Niece to my cousin Adam and the first great grandchild born to my grandparents, Emma holds a special place in all of our hearts. She was now shocking us all by turning eight--the years go by so quickly.
The plan: Inflate several balloons prior to departure at 1200 hours to save time. Report onsite (Emma's room) and complete project "Fill Room" by 1500 hours when Emma and friends would return from her rock-climbing party.
So there I laid on Saturday night about sixteen hours away from our official start time and having an incredibly difficult time inflating a balloon. Kari and I were laughing hysterically while Adam, unaware of our attempts to add more balloons to his "to do" pile, continued to make funny faces with his balloon. I refereed the competition between the married couple over who could blow up more balloons in two minutes (Kari dominated). After completing about 120 balloons we decided to call it quits for the evening.
Day two we awoke and resumed work. Just before 11 we began filling up the car with our already inflated balloons. It took three full trips, but we were able to successfully transport them. We worked in shifts tapping out those who looked like they were going to pass out and slowly stacking the balloons against the wall. We lost a few good balloons in the battle and mourned each loss by sucking it up (the air) and inflating another. 10 minutes before Emma's scheduled return we completed the final balloon--over 400 in total and filling up the room about four to five feet high. We hid in the sanctuary of static electricity, awaiting the arrival of the birthday girl.
She arrived and displayed the appropriate amount of shock and surprise. Her two younger sisters and her friends joined in the inflation insanity, screaming with each accidental popping of a balloon, and emerging with hair indicating some electrical activity. Forty-five minutes later Emma requested the return to room regularity. 400+ balloons and five hours of work were knocked out in fifteen firing minutes. Pop after pop, we watched the balloons disappear. Initially I was bummed that they didn't last longer, but soon the popping game also became fun. A few days later I received a set of photographs in the mail. A few of them include young Emma and her friends beaming in her balloon bedroom, but most of them include Kari, Adam, and I amidst all the hysterics of the preparation.
In winter we can often become so consumed with the next errand we need to run, or the next big event. Sometimes we can get stuck in a rut of doing the same old thing. This season, I challenge everyone to try something new…to create a memory that will last long past your eightieth birthday. No one knows for sure if Emma will remember her 8th birthday, but I know I will particularly those laughter filled moments shared with my family who consistently prove that family and friends are synonyms.
Happy Winter.
Want to read more of Patrick's writing? Visit his blog on myspace.
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