The Sky's the Limit

My dad, a Navy Officer, was stationed in Albuquerque, New Mexico, when I was eleven. Prior to that, we’d lived for almost five years in Hanford, California—a small town tucked in the lush agricultural heart of the state—where I’d built close childhood friendships and banked a trove of idyllic memories. The move to New Mexico was quite a culture shock. Add to that the normal awkwardness of middle school, and it was a rough patch in my formative years.

But with time and distance, I’ve come to recognize some truly unique experiences from those two years in Albuquerque. One of the most vivid was waking while it was still dark, driving with my family to a vast open field, and watching hundreds of hot air balloons take flight as the sun rose over the desert. It was one of the most spectacular sights I had ever witnessed. I remember thinking, one day, I’d ride in one of those balloons. That was 1985—and while I couldn’t have known it then, that early morning memory would stick with me for nearly four decades.

L to R: Sean, Kim, Deborah (my mom), Darcy, Aaron, and me at the International Hot Air Balloon Festival in Albuquerque in 1985. (And while I'm not sure who the Santa Claus and the old Soviet woman look-alikes are... they sure do make for an interesting backdrop.)

Fast-forward to today, and the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta has grown into a world-renowned event—the largest balloon festival in the world—spanning nearly two weeks and attracting balloon pilots, riders, and spectators from around the globe. So when I made a list of 50 things to do in celebration of my 50th birthday, finally riding in one of those balloons was a definite addition. On October 6, 2024, Lorraine and I made that dream a reality, booking a private balloon ride through Rainbow Ryders.

An important side note worth mentioning. We stayed at the  Hyatt Regency Tamaya, a stunning resort located on the Santa Ana Pueblo that honors the Tamayame—the Indigenous people native to the land. Everything about the property reflects their culture and spirit, from the adobe-inspired architecture to the art, food, and warmth of the staff. I can’t recommend it enough. It was the perfect home base for this long-awaited adventure.

The morning of our balloon launch, we woke up at 3 a.m., leaving our hotel in the dark, determined to make our 5 a.m. check-in with Rainbow Ryders. I thought we’d given ourselves plenty of time—but wow, what a shit-show. Once we reached the festival exit on the highway, traffic came to a standstill. We inched along for 45 minutes, my nerves unraveling with each passing minute.

When we finally made it through the gates, I jumped out of the car and started running toward the festival, heart racing. It was still pitch-black, and everyone—traffic controllers, staff, ticket takers, security—seemed just as disoriented as I was. No one had any idea where the Rainbow Ryders tent was, and the grounds were enormous.

By some miracle, I eventually stumbled upon the tent and breathlessly begged them not to take off without us. The woman behind the counter smiled calmly and said, “You’ve got plenty of time—come inside and grab a hot breakfast and a mimosa.” I could’ve cried with relief. Clearly, all the text and email reminders warning of the need to arrive no later than 5:00 am were intended to ensure you arrive by 6:00 am. They must’ve learned from experience. In any case, Lorraine was still parking, but once she joined me, we exhaled, ate something warm, and began to soak in the excitement.

About an hour later, they called our names and escorted us to the launch field to meet our pilot, Travis. The field was still dim and quiet, dotted with half-inflated balloons. We learned that flights can’t take off until wind conditions are just right, so we waited another hour, watching the scene slowly wake up. Rainbow Ryders, the official ride operator for the festival, brings in pilots from all over the country and pairs them with corporate, non-profit organizations or, in our case, university balloons. We’d been assigned to the University of New Mexico balloon, and our launch site buzzed with UNM alumni, marketing staff, and students snapping selfies and cheering their school balloon into the dawn.

When the moment finally came, Travis carved a path through the crowd to our basket. People clapped and waved as we climbed in, and for a brief second, we felt like rock stars. I’d worried that my fear of heights might kick in, but it never did. The excitement and surrealness of the moment left no room for it.

As we lifted off, the desert unfurled beneath us—pink light spilling over the Sandia Mountains, the air crisp and still. Hundreds of balloons floated around us like watercolor bubbles against a cloudless blue sky. Down below, people waved from rooftops and open fields, cheering and waving as we drifted overhead. It was one of the most breathtaking 45 minutes of my life—peaceful, exhilarating, and deeply fulfilling.

 After dreaming of this moment since 1985, to finally rise into that same Albuquerque sky, hand in hand with Lorraine, felt like pure magic. I can’t wait to come back one day and share it with our kids.