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"No parachutes. Even if we were shot full of holes, we'd just slowly sink. Probably take a couple of hours."
Ahhh, but the crash would kill us, right? Do we take instant cyanide pills?
"No, we'd just kind of bounce on our nose a little. Wouldn't even hurt."
Dang! This wasn't exactly Top Gun. You think they have blimp-pilot bars? Captain Breezy meet Captain Floater. You want a Tab?
Once we'd taken off (a crew pulls down hard on the side rails, bouncing the blimp off the tarmac and into the air), I asked, "What'll this baby top out at—80, 90 per?"
"Well, the most it'll do is 50, but we'll usually be doing about eight above the stadium."
Eight? A street sweeper goes eight.
In the cramped, 8-by-23-foot gondola there was barely room to store the water, Gatorade and snacks I'd brought along for the seven-hour flight. There were two seats in front. The back was taken up by the TV camera and a cameraman. The bathroom was in the—wait, where's the bathroom?
"No bathroom," Poppenhouse said.
After an hour we were over M&T Bank Stadium and began making slow, lazy lefthand turns.