Writer’s note: The following story is based on actual events described at a recent presentation about the Oneonta Fair. Names are changed. Thanks to Wayne Wright for stimulating my imagination.
Nelson lived with his parents and grandparents near the top of a hill just outside of Oneonta. Standing in his front door, Nelson could see all the way to the Charlotte Creek’s origins. Nelson had a vivid imagination. On his 11th birthday Pops — that’s what he called his grandfather — regaled him with tales of the upcoming fair.
“It’s all modern this year,” Pops said, his eyes twinkling. “They’ll have locomobiles and airships.”
“Airships? Like the Flying Dutchman in this picture?”
“Yes, Nelson. That’s exactly what they’re like.”
“Really? Can I ride in one?”
“We’ll put your name in the lottery. Maybe you’ll win a ride.”
Nelson’s friend, Gordon, ambled up the driveway.
“Gordy, I’m going to steer an airship!”
“What’s an airship, Nels?”
“It looks like a Yankee Clipper, but it floats on air instead of water! Let’s go up the hill and look for one.”
The two friends spent the rest of the day cloud-gazing, their imaginations running wild as they described the shapes they saw. Some clouds resembled sloops, others clipper ships.
That night, Nelson’s dreams were filled with fantastical airships of every description, crewed by ghostly, strange, but friendly, watery figures. An evil ship attacked with an ephemeral crew that resembled mist. At breakfast the next morning, he tried to describe these ethereal beings to his family. Dad asked, “How do they keep their shape if they’re liquid?”
“My teacher would say it’s a non-Newtonian solid,” Nelson said with a shrug before rushing out to find Gordon. They had much to discuss.
On opening day, Nelson was beside himself with excitement. Pops remarked that the boy looked like he might “come out of his skin.” Nelson wondered if that’s how the liquid people in his dreams came to be. He made a beeline for the judges’ platform, eagerly awaiting the start of the lottery. The judge drew each name from the jar with agonizing slowness. Nelson nodded off then jolted to consciousness hearing the judge call his name. He was going to ride a real airship!
The judge introduced Nelson to the pilot, Mr. Earl Flynn, who escorted him to the infield. To Nelson’s surprise it didn’t look like a ship at all. It was a basket smaller than Dad’s rowboat, tethered to an enormous balloon. Some riders were already there. Forgetting his manners, Nelson scrambled to be the first one in the basket.
As they began to ascend, guided by a squadron of men on the ground holding tethers, Nelson felt his breath catch in his throat. The upward motion was exhilarating, unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Too soon they returned to the ground. Nelson minded his manners and let everyone exit. He didn’t want the ride to end. Suddenly, he felt himself moving again. The docking tether had snapped. He soared high above the clouds, losing sight of the ground entirely. Panic set in, and Nelson passed out.
On the ground Mother cried, “We’ll never see him again!” Pops said, calmly, “He’ll come back.”
Nelson awoke to a basket that was transformed into the airship of his dreams. The iridescent crew treated him kindly. The captain, who resembled Mr. Flynn, beckoned him to come up to the helm and told him they would protect him. He asked the captain to take him home. “Bad news,” the captain said, “The misty evil ones are down below. They have three ships to our one. We can’t return to Earth until reinforcements arrive.”
Out of nowhere a squadron of air ships descended into a protective formation around their airship. The captain shouted, “We’re taking you back to Earth, and there’s nothing the evil misty ones can do about it!”
Poof! Nelson awakened to reality. He used his pen knife to puncture the balloon, and landed with a thud. A kindly family put him on the train to Oneonta. The fate of the balloon remains a mystery.