For the record, I hate balloons. If anyone ever asks “Hey, do you think EM would like a balloon?” say no. Always, unequivocally no
There are reasons for this, although to go into them would be long and boring so I shall not. But know that the mere sound of latex balloons being inflated, bumping into each other or otherwise existing sends shivers down my spine and makes me want to clamp my hands over my ears and run from the room. I HATE BALLOONS
So of course, I was asked to deliver balloons to a friends 2 year olds birthday party. And because I love said friend and her 2 year old I said what I always say, which is how these things always start “yes”.
So off I go with a bag full of deflated balloons (exactly how I like them) both mylar and latex alike.
I awake the day of the party and I am really really sick. I am coughing, I have a fever and I feel like I am going to die. The only thing I can do is take cold medicine (which makes me crazy and hyper and is another story) and try to live long enough to get the balloons inflated and delivered. Since I am sick and my thinking is impaired, I decide that while I am safely on the couch I need to devise a plan that will keep me as far away from the balloons as possible while I am delivering them. Since I do not drive a stretch version of anything I decide that the only thing I can do is put them in the trunk. But how will I get them in the trunk and shut them?
After walking around the car and looking at the trunk and trying to figure out how to cage the balloons (with a box I found in the trunk? I had a cape in the trunk, would that help? How about flip flops? no?) and realizing that there were way to many balloons for that to work I opted to open my back seat and feed the balloons into the trunk. Therefore they will be as far from me, and as sound proofed from me as possible while I drive.
I arrive at the store and ask the nice girl at the balloon counter to inflate the balloons and she informs me that she “not very good at this because she’s afraid of balloons”. Now, really? Why is she at this job? I know people need to work, but a job that scares you is just silly. But she seems to warily approach the balloons and gets to work. The first two Sam I Am mylar balloons seem resistant to being inflated. The stubbornly get only so full and then will go no farther. It’s like the refuse to fulfill their duty as a balloon (you know what is worse than a regular balloon? A slacker balloon)
Alas, it is realized that they had holes and physically cannot be inflated any larger than they were going (which was not much at all) and therefore were completely unworthy of being taken to the party. The third balloon inflated just fine and seemed oblivious to his overachievement.
Next comes a giant “2” mylar balloon which, as it was filled, we realized was much larger than originally believed. This will not now or ever fit in my trunk no matter how craftily I tried to ensnare it.
“Fine” I fumed, “I shall have this balloon in my backseat, but no more!”
Next were the 6 latex balloons, which all inflated just fine and were tied off with their ribbon.
Armed with the balloons I marched warily to the car and opened the back seat. I put in the giant 2 balloon and then put the Sam I am in the trunk. The wind kicked up and the 6 latex balloons seemed to happily bump into each other and with a panicked squeak I started feeding them faster into the trunk.
Somehow, this is when Sam decided to escape. This is also where I get confused. I was standing at the back door, I was feeding all the balloons into the trunk. How did he sneak out of the trunk, and the door I was in front of in order to float off into the sunshine? How much cold medicine had I had?
I realize Sam is floating away and I slam the door and futilely trying to jump, but the bottom of the ribbon stayed tantalizingly out of reach. Then Sam turns around and I SWEAR he turned just so he could watch me make a fool of myself in the shopping center parking lot while trying to catch him. The whole time he floated ever further away, he looked down at me as if to say “Catch me if you can”.
Moral of the story? Balloons are smarter than me, so if you need one, hire a professional balloon wrangler