Two Stories From One Sky
Some experiences are so beautiful that they connect people who experienced them, even when they experienced them differently.
It’s still dark. Thousands of people are moving across a massive field illuminated only by headlamps, cell phone screens and the occasional flashlight. The air is cold enough to make you pull your jacket tighter. Vendors are setting up. Families are unfolding lawn chairs. Nobody seems fully awake, and everyone is excited.
The sun begins to rise over the Sandia Mountains at the 2024 Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. (Kevin Severin)
Then the first burner ignites. A giant burst of flame shoots into the darkness and a cheer rises from the crowd. Then another. And another.
Suddenly the field begins to glow. One balloon lights up orange against the black sky. Then a second. Then ten. Then dozens! I remember turning in every direction, completely overwhelmed by color and motion. The balloons were enormous up close, far larger than I had imagined. As they expanded, they pushed against one another like giant living things trying to wake up. The roar of the burners echoed across the field. Every few seconds another blast of fire would light up the faces of thousands of strangers standing shoulder to shoulder.
For a moment, nobody was looking at their phones. Everyone was looking up.
In the fall of 2024, my two best friends and I loaded ourselves into my friend Noah's retro RV camper and pointed it west toward New Mexico.
The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta had been on my bucket list for years. I've always been drawn to experiences that feel slightly unreal. A sky filled with hundreds of hot air balloons certainly qualified.
The trip itself was half the fun. Noah's camper looked like something that should have been parked at a national park sometime around 1978. Between our pantry stocked full of snacks with a mini fridge bursting with asparagus and the miles of open highway ahead of us, it felt like we were setting out on an true adventure.
When we arrived in Albuquerque, we settled into a casino parking lot that had plenty of space and access to nearby amenities. It wasn't exactly luxury camping, but it worked. Every evening the Sandia Mountains glowed in the distance while the sun disappeared behind them. We cooked steaks, hot dogs and s'mores on a camp stove. We explored parts of a state none of us had ever visited before. We figured things out as we went.
Our retro RV camper at our RV site in Albuquerque days before the Balloon Festival. (Kevin Severin)
It’s the morning of the festival. Long before sunrise, we joined the stream of people heading toward Balloon Fiesta Park. Traffic had become such a nightmare that we eventually abandoned any hope of driving and committed ourselves to walking. The trek took over an hour, but even that became part of the experience.
As we approached the grounds, a drone show filled the sky. Thousands of tiny lights moved in perfect synchronization above us, creating shapes and images that floated against the darkness. It felt like a welcome party before the main event had even begun.
Once inside, we wandered through the vendor market, grabbed breakfast and eventually found a place to spread out our blankets. Then we waited.
The weather forecast had become the main character of the morning. Officials began expressing concern about wind conditions. The conversations around us slowly shifted from excitement to uncertainty. People refreshed weather apps. Rumors spread through the crowd. Nobody seemed to know whether the balloons would fly.
I remember feeling genuinely disappointed. After all the planning, all the driving and all the anticipation, there was a real possibility that the balloons would never leave the ground.
But eventually there was nothing left to do except accept it. The weather would do whatever the weather wanted to do. So we sat there and waited. And then the first burner ignited.
- Kevin
The first time I went to Balloon Fiesta was when I participated in the National Student Exchange program. I had decided to transfer to Albuquerque, NM from Wichita, KS. My motivations weren’t totally clear, even to me, at the time. It was something I wasn’t sure I’d wanted to do, but I forced myself to leave my comfort zone, and my hour radius from my hometown, in order to see how I might develop as a person. I picked New Mexico to mirror my parent’s stint in the state decades earlier. Even though I yearned for some distance from where I grew up, I still wanted to feel a connection to home in the place I was going.
I went with my friends Deanna and Grace. We found each other through the program, and I was drawn to them instantly. They were funny and smart and cool and accepting, all things I desperately needed as I was growing into the woman I wanted to be.
Balloon Fiesta is undoubtedly a special experience, however, the one caveat to the experience is that it takes place ungodly early. Think of the earliest time you’ve set your alarm in the past month, then go earlier. We are talking about a 3 a.m. wake up call for a 3:30 a.m. departure time. Traffic is notoriously terrible, and the balloons begin taking off at 6 in the morning to take advantage of the light winds.
My friends and I decided to forego the alarm completely and pull an all-nighter. We stayed up late drinking Barefoot Pink Moscato purchased for us by a boy on our dorm floor, as none of us were quite 21 years old yet. The night started with laughs, and sips, and stories. Then, as time went on, it turned into fighting sleep and shaking each other’s shoulders to keep awake. Finally, finally, 3:30 a.m. rolled around. Our friend Jon got ready to take us in his car.
We rode and waded through blocks and blocks of brake lights. We turned the indie playlist volume up higher than comfortable to keep us energized. We had reached delirium, and were laughing at word combinations like “breggs” (the intersection of bread and eggs, of course.) When we reached the parking area, we all but sprinted towards the large, grassy field. We could already see some balloons beginning to fill.
No words can express how large a single hot air balloon is. Even the official measurements don’t make much sense. You know that a hot air balloon stands 60-80 feet tall. But seeing the colorful envelope, loudly filling with hot air, looming over you, reminds you of your smallness. And seeing 500+ at the Balloon Fiesta? Talk about feeling like a speck.
- Lara
The mood across the field changed instantly. The crowd erupted.
Crews rushed into position. Massive sheets of colorful fabric that had been lying flat on the ground suddenly began to take shape. The burners roared overhead with surprising force. Every blast sounded like a jet engine starting a few feet away.
What fascinated me most was watching how much work went into launching a single balloon. Each one required an entire team. Several people held ropes and stabilized the balloon while passengers climbed into the basket. The envelopes slowly filled with hot air until they towered above everyone around them. Then, they lifted off the ground.
Within minutes, the sky transformed. Hundreds of balloons drifted overhead in every direction imaginable. Some carried intricate patterns. Others looked like giant cartoon characters. A few resembled floating advertisements.
Hot air balloons fill the sky at Balloon Fiesta Park at the 2024 Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. (Kevin Severin)
The colors seemed endless. Yellow. Blue. Red. Orange. Purple. Every time I thought I had picked a favorite, another balloon appeared.
The first rays of morning light spilled across the field and illuminated everything at once – the mountains, the crowd, the balloons and the hundreds of cameras trying desperately to capture a scene that felt bigger than any photograph.
I take a lot of photos, but some moments are almost frustrating to photograph because no image can fully explain what it felt like to stand there. This was one of those moments.
- Kevin
I was 20 years old when I went to the Balloon Fiesta for the first time. While technically adults, 20 year olds are quick to act like children when presented with the opportunity. We ran around the field for the next few hours trying to catch every row of balloons taking off. After our legs felt tired, we collapsed onto the grass to see the view from a horizontal position. After a few hours, we cuddled and napped until the final balloon had taken off. Then, until the balloons started taking advantage of the Albuquerque Box and landing where they started.
We rode home to our dorms and slept on pushed together twin beds for the rest of the day.
I am still friends with Deanna and Grace. I see each of them on a frequent basis, although one of them is over a 10 hour drive from me, and the other is across the Atlantic Ocean. We’ve enjoyed amazing moments, road trips and movie nights and difficult moments, more-than-toxic breakups and bouts of depression. Our personal problems are different now. They’re complicated, and deep, and layered. We have people who rely on us: boyfriends and pets and parents and children.
I have been lucky enough to see the Balloon Fiesta countless times. Each time is a wondrous occasion, and my phone memory suffers from the awe I experience while on the field. Every time, I try to take a moment to lay on the field and stare at the balloons soar through the New Mexico mountain air.
- Lara
What I remember most is the feeling of standing among thousands of strangers who were all focused on the same thing. For a few hours, everyone shared the exact same sense of wonder.
We were all standing in a field watching impossible things float through the sky.
John Muir believed that nothing in life exists in isolation. The moments that stay with us most are often the ones we experience alongside other people.
The older I get, the more I appreciate experiences that create that kind of connection. A connection through awe.
Me and my two best friends take a photo immersed by hot air balloons at the 2024 Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta. (Kevin Severin)
There's a phrase called “collective awe” that describes moments when groups of people experience wonder together. I didn't know the term at the time, but I understand the feeling now.
It's what happens at concerts when everyone sings the same lyrics, or a solar eclipse or when a crowd collectively gasps at something beautiful. And it's exactly what happened that morning in Albuquerque.
The reason I wanted Lara to contribute to this story is that she attended the Balloon Fiesta on a completely different trip, under different circumstances, with different people. Yet when we talk about it, many of the feelings overlap.
Some experiences don't need to teach us anything and they don't need to transform our lives. Sometimes their value comes from reminding us how beautiful the world can be.
For a few hours on a cold New Mexico morning, thousands of people stood together beneath a sky filled with color. They looked up, and they smiled, and they pointed at balloons drifting overhead on the same shared horizon in awe.
Two stories. One sky.