Where’s the Blimp?

It has now been 1,202 consecutive days without a blimp flying directly above my house. What are the odds?!

 
                       A random blimp buzzes my house.

Pull up a chair and I’ll tell you a story about me and the Blimp. Well, not the blimp. A blimp.

Back in my college days, eons ago, one summer found me working in Bladensburg, Maryland. I was working for a company called Fairchild-Hiller, trying to earn money for my college expenses. Monday night through Thursday night I stayed in a room at a frat house on the University of Maryland campus in College Park. There were about a dozen frat houses arranged along a U-shaped road (I bet it had a really unique name, too, like “Fraternity Row” – but that’s a pure guess). I paid $8 a week for a small room without electricity or hot water (‘cuz it was summer, remember?).

Anyhow, there was a huge open field behind the frat house and every evening as the sun went down a blimp would appear. It would land at the field, take on passengers, and then take off to tour the Washington, D.C. area. I can still recall looking up as the blimp soared low above the frat house on its takeoff and being astonished at seeing words and crude images flowing across the bottom of the blimp. (When the blimp is 100 feet above you, it’s impressive; quadruple that when animated electric light messages cover its bottom half against a dark sky.) That the blimp can display messages is common knowledge now, but this was back in the day, shortly after the discovery of fire and the invention of television. Back then, who knew? Only a few people. And me.