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"I have fulfilled my twenty-year dream," said Walters, a former truck driver for a company that makes TV commercials. "I'm staying on the ground. I've proved the thing works."
Larry's boyhood dream was to fly. But fates conspired to keep him form his dream. He joined the Air Force, but his poor eyesight disqualified him form pilot status. After he was discharged from the armed services, he sat in his backyard watching jets fly overhead.
He hatched his weather-balloon scheme while sitting outdoors in his 'extremely comfortable' Sears lawnchair. He purchased forty-five weather balloons form an Army-Navy surplus store, tied them to his tethered lawnchair dubbed the 'Inspirationn 1', and filled the four-foot-diameter balloons with helium. Then he strapped himself into his lawnchair with some sandwiches, Miller Lite Beer, and a pellet gun.
Larry's plan was to sever the anchor and lazily float up to a height of about thirty feet above his backyard, where he would enjoy a few hours of flight before coming back down. He figured he would pop a few brews, then pop a few of the forty-five balloons when it was time to descend, and gradually loose altitude. But things didn't work out as Larry planned.
When his friends cut the cord anchoring the lawnchair to his Jeep, he did not float lazily up to thirty feet. Instead, he streaked into the LA sky as if shot from a cannon, pulled by a lift of forty-five helium balloons holding thirty-three cubic feet of helium each. He didn't level off at a hundred feet, nor did he level off at a thousand feet. After climbing and climbing, he leveled off at sixteen thousand feet.
At that height he felt he couldn't risk shooting any of the ballons, lest he unbalance the load and really find himself in trouble. So he stayed there, drifting with his beer and sandwiches for several hours while he considered his options. At one point he crossed the primary approach corridor of Los Angeles LAX airspace, and Delta and Trans-World airline pilots radioed in incredulous reports of the strange sight.
Eventually he gathered the nerve to shoot a few balloons, and slowly descneded through the night sky. The hanging tethers tangled and caught in a power line, blacking out a Long Beach neighbourhood for twenty minutes. Larry climbed to safety, where he was arrested by waiting members of the Los Angeles Police Department. As he was led away in handcuffs, a reporter dispatched to cover the daring rescue asked why he had done it. Larry replied nonchalantly, "A man can't just sit around."
The Federal Aviation Administration was not amused. Safety Inspector Neal Savoy said, "We know he broke some part of the Federal Aviation act, and as soon as we decide which part it is, a charge will be filed."
Larry's boyhood dream was to fly. But fates conspired to keep him form his dream. He joined the Air Force, but his poor eyesight disqualified him form pilot status. After he was discharged from the armed services, he sat in his backyard watching jets fly overhead.
He hatched his weather-balloon scheme while sitting outdoors in his 'extremely comfortable' Sears lawnchair. He purchased forty-five weather balloons form an Army-Navy surplus store, tied them to his tethered lawnchair dubbed the 'Inspirationn 1', and filled the four-foot-diameter balloons with helium. Then he strapped himself into his lawnchair with some sandwiches, Miller Lite Beer, and a pellet gun.
Larry's plan was to sever the anchor and lazily float up to a height of about thirty feet above his backyard, where he would enjoy a few hours of flight before coming back down. He figured he would pop a few brews, then pop a few of the forty-five balloons when it was time to descend, and gradually loose altitude. But things didn't work out as Larry planned.
When his friends cut the cord anchoring the lawnchair to his Jeep, he did not float lazily up to thirty feet. Instead, he streaked into the LA sky as if shot from a cannon, pulled by a lift of forty-five helium balloons holding thirty-three cubic feet of helium each. He didn't level off at a hundred feet, nor did he level off at a thousand feet. After climbing and climbing, he leveled off at sixteen thousand feet.
At that height he felt he couldn't risk shooting any of the ballons, lest he unbalance the load and really find himself in trouble. So he stayed there, drifting with his beer and sandwiches for several hours while he considered his options. At one point he crossed the primary approach corridor of Los Angeles LAX airspace, and Delta and Trans-World airline pilots radioed in incredulous reports of the strange sight.
Eventually he gathered the nerve to shoot a few balloons, and slowly descneded through the night sky. The hanging tethers tangled and caught in a power line, blacking out a Long Beach neighbourhood for twenty minutes. Larry climbed to safety, where he was arrested by waiting members of the Los Angeles Police Department. As he was led away in handcuffs, a reporter dispatched to cover the daring rescue asked why he had done it. Larry replied nonchalantly, "A man can't just sit around."
The Federal Aviation Administration was not amused. Safety Inspector Neal Savoy said, "We know he broke some part of the Federal Aviation act, and as soon as we decide which part it is, a charge will be filed."
"I have fulfilled my twenty-year dream," said Walters, a former truck driver for a company that makes TV commercials. "I'm staying on the ground. I've proved the thing works."
Larry's boyhood dream was to fly. But fates conspired to keep him form his dream. He joined the Air Force, but his poor eyesight disqualified him form pilot status. After he was discharged from the armed services, he sat in his backyard watching jets fly overhead.
He hatched his weather-balloon scheme while sitting outdoors in his 'extremely comfortable' Sears lawnchair. He purchased forty-five weather balloons form an Army-Navy surplus store, tied them to his tethered lawnchair dubbed the 'Inspirationn 1', and filled the four-foot-diameter balloons with helium. Then he strapped himself into his lawnchair with some sandwiches, Miller Lite Beer, and a pellet gun.
Larry's plan was to sever the anchor and lazily float up to a height of about thirty feet above his backyard, where he would enjoy a few hours of flight before coming back down. He figured he would pop a few brews, then pop a few of the forty-five balloons when it was time to descend, and gradually loose altitude. But things didn't work out as Larry planned.
When his friends cut the cord anchoring the lawnchair to his Jeep, he did not float lazily up to thirty feet. Instead, he streaked into the LA sky as if shot from a cannon, pulled by a lift of forty-five helium balloons holding thirty-three cubic feet of helium each. He didn't level off at a hundred feet, nor did he level off at a thousand feet. After climbing and climbing, he leveled off at sixteen thousand feet.
At that height he felt he couldn't risk shooting any of the ballons, lest he unbalance the load and really find himself in trouble. So he stayed there, drifting with his beer and sandwiches for several hours while he considered his options. At one point he crossed the primary approach corridor of Los Angeles LAX airspace, and Delta and Trans-World airline pilots radioed in incredulous reports of the strange sight.
Eventually he gathered the nerve to shoot a few balloons, and slowly descneded through the night sky. The hanging tethers tangled and caught in a power line, blacking out a Long Beach neighbourhood for twenty minutes. Larry climbed to safety, where he was arrested by waiting members of the Los Angeles Police Department. As he was led away in handcuffs, a reporter dispatched to cover the daring rescue asked why he had done it. Larry replied nonchalantly, "A man can't just sit around."
The Federal Aviation Administration was not amused. Safety Inspector Neal Savoy said, "We know he broke some part of the Federal Aviation act, and as soon as we decide which part it is, a charge will be filed."
Larry's boyhood dream was to fly. But fates conspired to keep him form his dream. He joined the Air Force, but his poor eyesight disqualified him form pilot status. After he was discharged from the armed services, he sat in his backyard watching jets fly overhead.
He hatched his weather-balloon scheme while sitting outdoors in his 'extremely comfortable' Sears lawnchair. He purchased forty-five weather balloons form an Army-Navy surplus store, tied them to his tethered lawnchair dubbed the 'Inspirationn 1', and filled the four-foot-diameter balloons with helium. Then he strapped himself into his lawnchair with some sandwiches, Miller Lite Beer, and a pellet gun.
Larry's plan was to sever the anchor and lazily float up to a height of about thirty feet above his backyard, where he would enjoy a few hours of flight before coming back down. He figured he would pop a few brews, then pop a few of the forty-five balloons when it was time to descend, and gradually loose altitude. But things didn't work out as Larry planned.
When his friends cut the cord anchoring the lawnchair to his Jeep, he did not float lazily up to thirty feet. Instead, he streaked into the LA sky as if shot from a cannon, pulled by a lift of forty-five helium balloons holding thirty-three cubic feet of helium each. He didn't level off at a hundred feet, nor did he level off at a thousand feet. After climbing and climbing, he leveled off at sixteen thousand feet.
At that height he felt he couldn't risk shooting any of the ballons, lest he unbalance the load and really find himself in trouble. So he stayed there, drifting with his beer and sandwiches for several hours while he considered his options. At one point he crossed the primary approach corridor of Los Angeles LAX airspace, and Delta and Trans-World airline pilots radioed in incredulous reports of the strange sight.
Eventually he gathered the nerve to shoot a few balloons, and slowly descneded through the night sky. The hanging tethers tangled and caught in a power line, blacking out a Long Beach neighbourhood for twenty minutes. Larry climbed to safety, where he was arrested by waiting members of the Los Angeles Police Department. As he was led away in handcuffs, a reporter dispatched to cover the daring rescue asked why he had done it. Larry replied nonchalantly, "A man can't just sit around."
The Federal Aviation Administration was not amused. Safety Inspector Neal Savoy said, "We know he broke some part of the Federal Aviation act, and as soon as we decide which part it is, a charge will be filed."
very interesting. is that your own story?