Photo courtesy of Anything Under the Sun.
There was only one wish I had for the 17th Clark Hot Air Balloon Fiesta – that no pilot, parachutist, or me – would die. There were four chances, four days, of that possibility.
Hot air balloons would fill and lift off with the rising sun, but with the impending heat they could descend. Paragliders and parachutists would drop from the heavens making spirals and turns, risking their lives for an exciting show. Stunt pilots would flip their planes upside down and loop de loop over the crowds while I’d hope and pray . . . that a possible crash wouldn’t coincide with me being under them. And as always, Mount Arayat, the volcano, watched over us from the horizon… bidding for the right time to erupt.
Clark, the gigantic air field in Pampanga, has hangars, hotels and shops, and has had its share of destruction. There were air battles there in World War II, resulting in evacuations away from the Japanese air raids in 1941 to the American air raids in 1944. A 6.3 earthquake struck 80 miles near Clark on March 31, 1980 and the devastating 7.6 earthquake rocked Clark on July 16, 1990.
Clark is no stranger to death, and for the 17th Hot Air Balloon Fiesta thousands of thrill seekers packed the tarmac and field, eager to see stunts they could only otherwise see in movies like Top Gun. They’d watch with necks craning skyward, and think, “Don’t crash… on me!”
Paraglider. Photo courtesy of Anything Under the Sun.
My family and I watched on day three, Saturday, as the hot air balloons of different rainbow colors and shapes rose up, blocking the rising 5:30 am sun. They need to be launched in the cool morning to float properly and safely.
As they faded into the distance, paragliders, propelled by jet-styled fans, spiraled around with long ribbons trailing them like a ribbon twirling Olympic event held in the sky. Others expelled tails of smoke, twisting around making shapes. As they descended, the audience gasped their amazement wishing, “Land safely!” And downwards the brave men swooped and as the lead glider revealed the Philippine flag, the Philippine National Anthem started.
Thousands of families, students, Air Force personnel and airline professionals stood up, applauding as the paraglider and flag landed precisely at the ending of the song. The crowd had goose bumps… and the geese had people bumps.
Curious city people arrived in the grounds and walked into a wall of an unfamiliar smell… fresh air! As lunch approached the scent was replaced by mouthwatering whiffs of pizza and hot dogs. You could hear the rat-at-at of helicopter blades behind food stalls and hangars and framed by hundreds of kites, flown by the shoulder to shoulder crowds.
Paraglider. Photo courtesy of Anything Under the Sun.
It all makes wonderful memories, but sometimes fear of air-field-related death comes in another form from unlikely places – like catching germs and bacteria of porta-potties. When you pack that many people in one place it’s inevitable they’ll line up for relief at the porta-potties – which didn’t even smell! This is thanks to the men who deodorized and wiped each one after each and every person used them. Perfume-fresh porta-potties – only in Clark… that’s why I’m named Clark. And trash?
There were grinning men picking up wrappers, well, they wore grinning masks. So even the feared sources of dirt and disease were sanitized and picked up… with grins pa! It was a great picnic atmosphere for lunch – which I was hoping wouldn’t be my last.
My family rested in the hotel in the afternoon so I walked back to the Fiesta grounds to soak in the sights and catch some excitement – and got more than I bargained for. As I sat on the sun- drenched field among the tents, blankets and umbrellas, a stunt plane zoomed over us. It crisscrossed, soared, dived and spun around and over the crowd. Then it flew in a straight line above us – and flipped upside down! I hollered, and the crowd gasped. I knew that, up to that point, the pilot had practiced hundreds of hours – and survived every one of them – but who’s to say he would survive this one… and would I?
As if the pilot felt my fear and would tease me – he dived, zoomed just above us, and then exactly above me he soared straight up! He climbed higher and higher and I grabbed handfuls of grass to dart away, but my legs were paralyzed! I looked up as he suspended the plane in midair, naturally defying gravity. Then the plane dipped started to fall towards me!
Plane. Photo courtesy of Anything Under the Sun.
In my mind I begged him to fly away, but instead he continued charging straight down. So this was day three – and the death moment had arrived. Not death-defying… certain death! I thought of my loved ones, tried to remember if my in-case-of-emergency card was in my wallet – and groaned the icy cold groan of my last breath. But the plane swerved away, spinning circles of smoke behind him, heading toward Mount Arayat. The audience cheered and clapped – I whooped and hollered!
It was a completely safe four-day bonanza full of fun, flying, and fiesta. It always has been. Everybody was an expert from parachuting to hot air ballooning, to flying. Thousands left with grins – real ones.
The 17th Hot Air Balloon Fiesta was an experience of a lifetime. It amazed me, it awed me… and it cured my fear of a stunt plane crashing on top of me.
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