First of all, a note about my song selection: I don't really have a
favorite Ben Folds song, and I don't think I've ever even heard this
particular one, but I'm interpreting "My Favorite Song By Ben Folds" as
an abbreviation of the real theme, "My Favorite Song by Ben Folds,
Based on That Song's Ability to Give Me an Idea for Something to Write
About This Week." If you think that's cheating, then maybe you should
know that Ben Folds also has a song called "Dog," a song that would have been
a perfect excuse to post more pictures of my puppy, which I am ignoring
despite the fact that I have many cute puppy pictures to share, so in
reality you should probably be pretty impressed with my restraint.
Now, on to my post.
I hate balloons; or, more accurately, I hate loud, unexpected noises, which balloons are prone to making when they pop. I simply cannot feel at ease around balloons, can't relax when I know there is the very real possibility that they could explode and scare me. If I am at a party with balloons, I will try and be in a different room than them, and if that is not possible then I will just be uncomfortable and on edge.
Even worse than being around balloons is having to actually blow them up, because the only thing scarier to me than the idea of a balloon popping across the room is the prospect of a balloon popping right in my face.
Last year, however, an acquaintance asked me to help her set up for a big family Oktoberfest event she'd organized for her job as an event planner, and I told her I'd be glad to help. I did not realize that the specific job she had in mind for me was The Balloon Person, so when she led me to a room with two oxygen tanks and about 500 un-inflated balloons, I almost had a heart attack. It was like a normal person walking into a shed full of rusty knives.
I knew this person kind of well, but not well enough to be OK with admitting that I was 23 years old and afraid of balloons, so I cheerfully agreed to the task and she left me alone to get to work. The hours that followed were absolutely horrifying, and when my friend came in later to check on me she was less than impressed with my work.
"Um, is this all you've gotten done?" she asked. (It turns out that holding the balloon at arm's length and turning your head away as you attempt to tie it is not exactly the quickest method in the book.)
"Yeah--I, uh, had some trouble with the pump at first. Sorry!"
"No problem." She looked around again. "One more thing--do you think you could blow them up a little bigger?" Damn. I was hoping she would just overlook the fact that each balloon had been blown up to roughly the size of a grapefruit so as to reduce its chances of poppage.
"Bigger? Yeah, totally. I was just thinking, like, I don't know how much oxygen is in these tanks, and there are so many balloons--I was just, you know, conserving."
Each of the oxygen tanks was brand new and almost as tall as I was.
"Yeah, I don't think you need to worry about running out of oxygen."
"Cool. I'll just get back to work, then!"
Another harrowing hour of lackluster balloon-inflation followed, and then I was replaced by a guy and moved to--I shit you not--PONY DUTY. I am even more afraid of horses and ponies than I am of balloons, and yet I was now being asked to guide the pony rides. Unbelievable. Unacceptable. There was no way I was going to do it--I didn't care if I looked like a freak.
By this time I was too distraught to even think of an excuse, so I just told the acquaintance flat out that I was scared of ponies and she would have to give me something else to do.
"You're scared of ponies?" she asked, looking pointedly in the direction of the three-and-four-year-old children who were petting and feeding the ponies at that very second. Then she said the thing that people always say, the dumbest thing ever: "Why don't you come over to one and see how gentle they are?"
No. No f*cking way. I'm not gonna go over there and touch the freaking pony in front of all the freaking kids and look like a freaking moron because I'm scared and they're not. I'd rather eat a balloon.
"Honestly, I'd rather just do something else."
And that's how I ended up walking around in the cold, loading bales of hay on and off a truck for another hour, until I quit and slipped away unnoticed. Haven't had much contact with my acquaintance since then.
Lauren McMahon (e-mail, website) writes "Too Much Information" on Tuesdays at 2:00. Find out more here.
I thought this was going to be about fear of soft drinks, which would be interesting
Posted by: I enjoy Dr. Pepper | October 30, 2007 at 06:55 PM
I was hoping for fear of pop music. (That Justin Timberlake is a threatening dude.) But then I remembered about Lauren's balloonphobia . . .
My old dog was a balloonphobic in her day . . . At my 15th(?) birthday party, we played this game where everyone had a balloon tied to their ankle and you had to go around trying to pop other people's balloons while keeping yours from popping. Last man standing was the victor. My dog had a complete nervous breakdown, ran into a corner, and just shook uncontrollably for a frighteningly long time. Aw, poor poochie . . .
Anyway, Lauren, do you seriously not talk to this event planner chick anymore? Because I often like to imagine myself as an event planner . . . Maybe your ex-friend could help me turn my event planning imaginings into event planning realities . . . I really hate ponies too though. Hopefully that wouldn't hold me back too much in the event planning world.
Posted by: Tori | October 30, 2007 at 07:24 PM
I found this post both interesting and relatable, so up yours, Krabappel
Posted by: KELLYq | October 30, 2007 at 08:51 PM
I guess that kit I gave you years ago with instructions for turning balloons into animals and swords wasn't one of your favorite gifts. And all these years I thought it was your sister Kelly who was the most afraid of balloons.
Posted by: Mom | October 31, 2007 at 10:26 AM
Strangely, my fear of balloons didn't develop until some point in the past five or six years.
Posted by: Lauren | October 31, 2007 at 10:30 AM
POP!
hehe it's halloween and i tried to scare you.
god, i'm lame.
Posted by: EmGusk | October 31, 2007 at 03:10 PM
I didn't mean to imply this column wasn't good; I liked it a lot.
Posted by: I enjoy Cherry Coke | October 31, 2007 at 07:56 PM
i love your blog...you crack me up everyday...
i too am afraid of popping balloons...i was working an open house at a job fair a couple years ago and my boss left it up to me to POP all the remaining balloons. i promptly hid them in the ladies room and left.
INTENTIONAL POPPING? no thank you.
Posted by: kelly | November 01, 2007 at 04:58 AM
The balloon part? Could've been something I wrote. I HATE the sound of balloons popping, it always scares me and I'm always a little nervous around balloons.
We should have a support group.
Posted by: Andrea | November 01, 2007 at 10:27 AM