I hadn't been to Albuquerque since I was a child. I had always heard about it though from my parents. The mountains to the east, desert to the west and the balloons. I always heard about the balloons.
The alarm woke us at 3:30. The moon was still high in the night sky as we groggily got in the elevator and headed to the car. The car ride that should have lasted no more than 15 minutes came to a grinding halt about a mile from where the fiesta was to take place. Two and a half hours later, having been packed into a parking lot with thousands of others, the sun was just beginning to rise and we were heading into the fiesta. With it came the balloons.
As the sun began to creep over the ridge of Sandia Creste to the east the morning sky was filled with balloons rising above the shadow cast by the mountain.
The colors of the balloons against the bright blue back drop was like something I had never seen before.
This weekend is something that I had never experienced before but it is something that I will definitely be going back for. I love a good story full of hot air.