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Home > Archive > Nov 9, 2006

America the 'Ballooniful'
By Sharon May
Managing Editor
Health officials have been on the news a lot lately warning us about America's ballooning buttocks and bellies. Personally, I know this is a huge problem. And I don't want to talk about it.

But there's another ballooning problem facing us. Mainly, balloons. I'm talking about America's overuse of inflated Mylar and plastic to celebrate everything, from the new baby across the street to great-grandpa's new dentures. Everything notable happening today arrives with balloons.

It's not just birthdays anymore. Balloons celebrate anniversaries, engagements, returning soldiers, missionaries, surgeries, divorces, promotion to head sweeper at Brooms Plus, and the neighbors' dog's birthday. Balloons are today's inflatable greeting cards.

But it's even more than that. Driving the highway through town the other day, I saw a virtual balloon war among the car dealerships competing for business. One dealer had two helium-filled orange and black balloons tied to every car on the acre lot. The dealership next door bested them with four multicolored balloons strung from their fleet of vehicles. Across the street, red, white and blue balloons – apparently the more patriotic and therefore more trustworthy dealership – floated over their cars in bunches of fifty. The dealer next to Captain America retaliated with a hundred strings of golden balloons rising into the ionosphere.
What's with that? I mean, do the dealers think we're going to be driving down the highway and suddenly decide to buy a $25,000 car because of their balloons?

"Oh, look, honey. Balloons! Wow, let's pull over and go seriously into debt."
"Yeah, let's do it. But let's be tough and hold out for a free balloon before signing on for a $450 monthly car payment."

"Oooh, you're so smart, sweetie. They don't know who they're dealing with."

And it's not just car dealerships that have run amok with balloons. I can understand why grand openings would want to draw attention to themselves with balloons, streamers, radio station vans and free pony rides.

But why would a plumbing supply store suddenly decide to gussy up their discount toilets and drain valves with festive balloons stating, "I bought it at Mel's for Less"? Does a ball of helium make a toilet more attractive or a better buy? Maybe they're hoping we'll take our toilets home and flush their balloons down our new commodes and then need to call Mel's Roto-Rooter.
Do balloons bobbing above the grocery's meat freezer make me rush to stock up on the day's special on pickled goat livers? Does a balloon make me dash to the sample table to taste the soy tapioca? Will I explain my purchase of a 500 horsepower riding lawnmower for my 30 square foot lawn by saying "the balloons were irresistible"?

And do we really need to be congratulated on everything we accomplish with balloon recognition? I saw a lot of ballooning when I taught school. Every day, at least one student histrionically entered class with balloons for something – a birthday, game day, "Luv U" day, or "Congratulations" for anything from a calculus test to new braces or remembering a locker combination.

It reminds me of when I was 15 and seriously in love with a senior in high school. I stayed home from school one day, telling him I had the flu. I was too embarrassed to tell him I had indigestion from too large a serving of baked beans for dinner. Mid-morning, the doorbell rang and a dozen red roses with a dozen pink balloons were delivered. It was the first – and last – time I ever got flowers for a case of the farts.

But I guess my dreamboat was just ahead of his time. Because today, you wouldn't even have to lie about your flatulence to earn a bouquet of sympathy balloons. You might even be able to find balloons already printed with "Sorry about Your Gas."

And just think of America's ballooning landfills. According to the federal department of contrived statistics, our landfills are choked with enough deflated plastic to provide breast implants for all of China. Even the men. And Mylar takes 86 billion years to decompose, give or take a year.

So the next time your spouse or child accomplishes something amazing, like taking out the trash, please refrain from rushing out and purchasing a dozen balloons to celebrate. Try saying "thank you" instead and save America. It's the patriotic thing to do.

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