Larry Walters was born in 1949, in Los Angeles, California. You may have heard of him or known him by his aerodynamic name, Lawn Chair Larry. From a young age, Larry dreamed of flying. Unfortunately, his eyesight was so poor that even the air force said, “Thanks, but we prefer pilots who can actually see the runway.” Grounded by circumstance, Larry settled for a perfectly normal life as a truck driver in San Pedro, California. But that longing for the open sky never really left him.
As a boy, Larry visited Disneyland, and while most children were fascinated by the rides, Larry’s attention was fastened on a woman holding what he described as, “a zillion balloons.” His young brain thought, “You get enough of those and they’re gonna lift you up.” And that simple, ridiculous thought never left him.
On July 2, 1982, Larry decided the time had come to make his dream a reality—or at least, a headline. With the help of his then-girlfriend, he strapped 45 helium-filled weather balloons to a lawn chair, which he named Inspiration I. He packed sandwiches, a soda, a CB radio, and a camera. Additionally, he took a pellet gun to pop the balloons when he was ready to descend. The plan was simple; float gracefully a few hundred feet over his neighborhood, wave to some folks, then drift toward the Mojave Desert and gently descend. But, as anyone who had “a simple plan” knows, this was not what happened.
The rope that had tethered Larry to a car snapped, and he suddenly shot upward like a Dollar Tree rocket. He shot up 300 feet, 1,000 feet, and then—astonishingly—kept going. By the time he leveled off, Larry hung 16,000 feet in the air, shivered with cold, was oxygen-deprived, and was probably reconsidering his snack choices.
Pilots leaving Los Angeles International Airport spotted him and one radioed in, “Control, this is TWA 231 at 16,000 feet. We have a man in a chair attached to balloons off our ten o’clock.”
Larry drifted for about an hour and a half before slowly descending into a Long Beach neighborhood where he got tangled in some power lines and knocked out electricity for 20 minutes. When he finally touched down, police arrested him, probably with more questions than charges. His $4,000 fine from Federal Aviation Administration was later reduced to $1,500, and Larry became a minor celebrity. When Larry was asked why he did it, he replied, “It was something I had to do. I’d dreamed about it for 20 years, and if I hadn’t done it, I would’ve regretted it for the rest of my life.”
The first time I heard Larry’s story, I laughed out loud. The man literally turned a patio set into a space program. But lately, that line, “I would’ve regretted it for the rest of my life,” impacts me differently. It impacts me differently because I also have dreams; dreams I believe God has placed in my heart. Dreams that seem risky or perhaps even foolish but if I never move on them, I’ll regret it. And I don’t think I’m alone.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not encouraging you to duct-tape balloons to your patio furniture. Wisdom is essential. Good ideas need prayer, planning, and counsel. But I’ve learned that it is dangerously easy to stay grounded simply because it’s comfortable. The known is safe, predictable, and manageable. But do you know what else it is? Small. And small, when God is calling you higher, starts to feel a lot like settling.
Sometimes our comfort zones are busy and even successful, but still stagnant. The signs are subtle and may include:
- Talking about your ideas more than acting on them.
- Setting small safe goals.
- Staying busy but feeling unfulfilled.
- Avoiding anything that feels risky.
…staying where you are may keep you from falling, but it also keeps you from flying.
These things are not failures, but simply a flight delay. But here’s the truth, staying where you are may keep you from falling, but it also keeps you from flying. The pain of risk is real, but the pain of regret lasts longer. Maybe your “balloons” look like starting that business you’ve prayed about for years. Or writing the book that’s been sitting in a file labeled Someday. Or starting that conversation that scares you half to death. Faith will always require movement and most often, it begins with something small and wobbly that feels too fragile to succeed.
You don’t have to start full-Lawn-Chair-Larry. Begin small. Give your idea five minutes a few times a week. Talk to a mentor who’s lived with bravery. Stop waiting for perfect conditions; they don’t exist. Progress beats perfection every time. And if you ever doubt that, envision Larry hovering 16,000 feet above Los Angeles in a lawn chair, sipping a soda, holding a CB radio, and thinking, “Well, this escalated quickly!”
Those ideas floating in your head have been there long enough. It’s time to take the first step. You won’t see me floating over your neighborhood anytime soon, but I’m done waiting for “someday.” Because every dream worth chasing requires a little discomfort, and discomfort is the toll you pay on the road to something better.
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Gross, K. (2025, May 22). Lawnchair Larry: The man who ascended 16,000 ft in a chair tied to helium balloons. Guiness World Records. https://www.guinnessworldrecords.com/news/2025/5/lawnchair-larry-the-man-who-ascended-16000-ft-in-a-chair-tied-to-helium-balloons.
Plimpton, G. (1998, May 25). The man in the flying lawn chair. The New Yorker 100. https://owl.purdue.edu/owl/research_and_citation/apa_style/apa_formatting_and_style_guide/reference_list_electronic_sources.html.