At Pearsontown Elementary School, we had an annual Balloon Launch. It was a fundraiser—all the kids would go around our respective neighborhoods, selling balloons for a dollar a piece. On the anointed Balloon Launch day, the balloons would be filled with helium and tied to posts on the playground. Each balloon had a tag attached with the school’s telephone number and the name of the person who bought said balloon. On the principal’s count of three, all the kids would run around and cut the strings, sending the balloons skyward in a multicolored rush. Then we’d all just stand there looking up into the sky in awe. For the next two weeks, calls would come into the school reporting where various balloons were found, and they’d be charted with thumbtacks in a map in the office. The owner of the balloon that made it the farthest distance won a prize—I don’t remember what, exactly.

By the third grade, the Balloon Launch was history—evidently, it was an environmental hazard. But I still remember the sight of all those balloons rushing into the air. It was one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen.

So imagine how happy I was this morning, when I read about Kent Couch, a 48-year-old dude from Bend, Oregon, who flew 230 miles in… (wait for it) a lawn chair tied to 150 helium balloons. He appears to be secured into said chair by duct tape, but don’t quote me on that. It’s Kent’s third and longest voyage by balloon, taking him from his hometown gas station all the way to Idaho. “If I had the time, money and people, I’d do this every weekend,” said Kent. “Things just look different from up there. You’re moving so slowly. The best thing is the peace, the serenity. You can hear a dog bark at 15,000 feet.”

So the vital question—how did Kent land rather than go up and up into the atmosphere? Easy—he shot a few balloons to initiate his descent.

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You Can’t Make This Stuff Up is a column by Kate Torgovnick, about all the amazingly strange things happening in our world. To read more about Kate, head to Cheerthebook.com.