I’m not a morning person. I mean, I love them, I’m just not great at having coherent conversations or making sure the coffee filter is sitting on top of the mug before pouring the boiling water. (I’ve actually done this.) But I’d never been to the Taos Mountain Balloon Rally, and people said it was great, so even though the balloons take off in the early morning I considered going.
It should sound fun, right? What was I, some kind of balloon-hating communist? It was just that getting up in the dark and cold and into the car and joining a throng of people watching huge objects rise into the sky didn’t top of my list of fun things to do.
Then a friend informed me they do a Saturday evening event. Well, I can definitely be coherent and willing to join civilization by then. And if that was totally fun then I’d be more motivated to get up early the next day for the morning ascension. So I went at dusk on a Saturday.
Looks fun, right? It was. But I wasn’t loving the shots I was getting, or maybe I’m just not as fascinated by hot-air balloons as everyone else. Plus my stomach was growling, so I packed up and headed to Lambert’s for a snack and a glass at the bar.
Getting out of my car by the restaurant, I saw this beautiful green light and thought, aha. Here’s a shot. A man was getting out of his car nearby and watched me set up my tripod and camera in the middle of the parking lot. He said, “What are you looking at?”
I pointed at the tree. “The light.”
He shook his head and hustled toward the shops, probably wondering if I’d gone off my meds.
It turned out to be a good night after all. I set the alarm in preparation for the morning ascension the next day, and when it went off I thought for exactly one second about going, then turned off the alarm and rolled over. A couple hours later, when I was up and moving, the French toast and coffee at the Diner seemed more delicious than ever.
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