Up in the air, Junior Birdman.
When it’s 66 degrees in February — 66! — you get the hell out of the house, chores be damned.
There was all manner of human-power transportation going on out there this afternoon. People cycling. People running. People walking. People walking dogs. Big people carrying little people.
You are cleared for landing on runway … well, actually, it’s a trail, but go ahead, put ‘er down.
And people flying. Not in airplanes, or like Superman, but still.
I noticed the hang gliders drifting around the Sandia foothills as I rolled away from El Rancho Pendejo, but soon got engrossed in my own little outing and forgot all about them until I was cresting a hill on the way home.
Zoom, there one was, right overhead, and if I’d had an actual camera with me instead of a phone, why, you’d be looking at a closeup of him right now.
Instead, you have to settle for this miserable phone shot of him preparing to land while his buddy continued to bank lazily overhead. I will never be smart.
But you knew that.
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