Your basic adventure part II: Mall Security

On the drive down to Primm, Jason tuned the radio to the repeater so we could hear where people were on the way down. Others were announcing their position, Dan ahead of us and the TV truck behind us. I had decided on Primm, for the launch site since it was sufficiently far from McCarran Airport and not quite on the BLM land that I may have been forbidden to go on just the week before. It was also a place that was easy to describe to the clamoring mass of people who wanted to show up for the launch (everybody loves a countdown). Further, the launch predictions looked good too, going North and West, back towards Las Vegas (that’s good, right?). Ugh.

So, we arrived at Primm all excited and then…things seemed to go painfully slow. I unpacked the trunk of the Camry and met some guy named Halley. We promptly took over the bed of his truck to put the package together. Actually, there were a lot of men with trucks there. Mmmm. Made me want to cash in the Camry for something more rugged. Dan was busy testing the GPS and switching out the batteries. The TV truck arrived and then drove around the side of the outlet mall to get set up. Setting up the truck is harder than it seems. You must deploy a 40 ft. mast. These things take time--and a ladder. Regardless of how much time the TV truck crew took, we were somehow slower. They were on the radio, a few times, sounding annoyed, asking for an “update.” You know when someone asks you for an update, what they are really saying is: I am seriously pissed that this hasn’t been done yet, but you have ultimate power so instead of chewing you out, I will ask politely for an update. I know because I asked the IT guy for an update regarding my office internet connection just yesterday.

Looking back, I’m not sure what took so much time. I had turned the Spot on right away and packaged it up so I wouldn’t need to worry about it. Next we turned on the GPS to make sure it was working, then the live video camera to make sure it was broadcasting to the truck. After that we turned the two HD cameras on, first the Flip, which we started recording and stuffed into the package. Next the Playsport, which we worried would run out of batteries. Dan made an external battery charger for it. He ended up snipping the charging cord, which I thought might be a problem if I ever wanted to cash in on the extended replacement plan I bought at Sam’s Club (they return anything, right?).

As we plugged the camera in to the battery pack, we noticed that it wouldn’t charge. Apparently somebody bent the charging pin, probably by shearing the charging cord. I hope nobody stepped on the package and it was instead bent while we had been trying to stuff it into the Styrofoam. The blame was briefly passed around and there were a lot of give-it-to-me’s and let-me-see-that’s spoken. After which I determined that we would jettison the battery pack. We could only get it to charge if the cord was in “just right” and the slightest breeze would knock the cord loose, turning off and resetting the camera. Let me remind you that winds can be over 100 mph in the upper atmosphere. Much more than a breeze. After scrapping the battery pack, we turned the camera on and stuck it inside the payload. I zip tied the fifty one-dollar bills inside the payload as well and got a final weight and wrote it down. Thanks for the pen, anonymous pen man standing behind me.

It somehow took “forever” to tape and tie the payload closed, pick up and carry everything over to the dirt field across from the parking lot and begin filling the balloon. My dad and some guy with a mustache were on Helium tank duty. I unwrapped the balloon and unfolded it, wearing cotton gloves. The gloves are important because the oils in your hands can degrade the latex. I don’t remember seeing that warning on a box of Trojans, but it is definitely on the balloon box. Chris keeps calling it a giant condom, but really, it is entirely the wrong shape, even for a giant….nevermind. Anyway, the rules are hands off the balloon. Only those who put on cotton gloves and removed all jewelry, hats and glasses were allowed to stand in a circle around the balloon to wrangle it.

My dad zip-tied the filling flange he made inside the neck of the balloon. He was slowly considering putting more zip-ties around the neck to secure it, but I thought one was plenty. My dad is a very thoughtful person, but it was time for action (after all, we did have a giant condom)!! After convincing him that one was plenty, the mustacheod man began the flow of Helium into the balloon. The loud hissing of the gas tank made me wish I had brought ear protection in addition to the giant latex protection (last one, I promise). The balloon began to fill slowly, growing until it lifted itself off the ground and began to rise into the air. There was a moment of drama as the balloon first rose from the ground and swung up near the helium tank. The mustacheod man quickly shut off the gas until we could get the situation handled.

I was underneath the balloon, kneeling, overseeing the filling when Halley suddenly appeared saying:

“Security is asking under what authority we are here.”

I answered with a long “Aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhum” as I let that one bounce off my brain. It really wasn’t a good time for the question. Apparently I had forgotten to prep the team on what to do if the police/security/rent-a-cop showed up at a critical time*. If so, I would have prepared the following chart:

Basically, all roads lead to “stall them.” Having not yet prepared this handy guide, all I could do was answer with a long “Aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhum.” My view was blocked by a giant prophylactic and without seeing the alleged security guard, I couldn’t make a judgment as to the right course of action. There is a big difference between the approach you need to distract a mall cop and a the one needed to distract a casino cop. During the midst of my long “Aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhum,” somebody else spoke for me. Somebody told Halley to tell them “whatever.” He went away to relay our superb, super-well-thought-out message and we continued to fill the balloon.

Halley did come back, a few minutes later and said “we have five minutes to vacate the premises.”

“Great” I replied. Five minutes is a long time. Give a woman five minutes and a giant latex reservoir and a lot can get done. As the balloon began to get the proper amount of lift, my dad hung the kilogram weight hook off of the tube and people began counting out loud as each kilogram was stacked and lifted off the ground.

One!

Two!

Three!

Four!

Five!

We brought six kilograms total, but before the sixth one lifted off the ground, I stopped the filling. I get the feeling the crowd was disappointed, I guess when a crowd counts out loud, they really don’t appreciate being stopped before six. Sorry, but I had ten pounds of total lift in mind. That’s five pounds over the five pounds of weight totaled from the balloon, parachute and payload. Last time I calculated 5 kilograms was over 10 pounds anyway. Sorry excited crowd counters.

I double zip-tied the neck of the balloon shut with the (pink) string leading to the payload underneath and my dad cut off the zip-tie attaching the fill nozzle and removed it. I folded the neck over and zip-tied it two more times before rising and walking out to let the balloon go. Someone had a hold of the payload so when the balloon went up, we still had control of it. I was still worried about my “five minute warning” so I just wanted to let her go and run away as quickly as possible, but Chris held the string in his hand after I let go. I gave him my best yeah-so-time-to-let-the-balloon-go-already look. He said, “No, you should have the honors.” I didn’t think being arrested for staying for five minutes and three seconds was at all honorable, but I grabbed back onto the string and said something along the lines of: “Okay people, say goodbye,” gave it a pregnant pause (I know I said I would stop, but I lied) and let her go.

*I would like to take this time to formally apologize to any mall security that happen to be reading this blog. But if you are reading this on your iPhone while riding a Segway or sitting in a food court, you are exactly the type of distracted defender of justice that we needed.