The highlight of a recent business trip to Austria was a visit to Hangar 7, a museum showcasing Red Bull’s achievements. Many believe Red Bull is just a soda company supporting a Formula 1 team, but their business is actually content production, leading to drink sales. Each can sold, typically earning the company about a dollar, reflects their successful branding at sports events. Billions of cans sold translate to billions of dollars earned.

It turns out you can fly over the Grand Canyon for free. Well, almost. You’re just flying, and the Grand Canyon is right outside your window. This happens when you’re sitting on the left side of the plane on a flight from Las Vegas to Dallas. And this is just a part of the beauty I managed to see.

Probably the view on the flight to Denver is even better, as the Grand Canyon extends to the northeast. I should check it out sometime.

My journey began not amidst the glittering lights of  Las Vegas, but in a place far more understated yet equally intriguing – Boulder City. This small, picturesque town lies a short hop from the city of sin but feels worlds apart with its laid-back charm. Known for its small but bustling airport, Boulder City serves as the gateway for those seeking aerial adventures over the Grand Canyon. Stepping into the airport, there was a palpable buzz, a mixture of excitement and the hum of propellers, setting the stage for an unforgettable experience.

Our pilot, Hans, was as much a part of this adventure as the helicopter itself. Hailing from the historical city of Bruges, Belgium, he was a man whose life story could easily fuel a series of novels. With a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye, Hans welcomed us aboard. As we lifted off, the contrast between Boulder City’s serene streets and the chopper’s powerful blades encapsulated the day’s theme – peaceful beginnings to dynamic journeys.

As we headed towards the Grand Canyon, the Hoover Dam came into view, an awe-inspiring feat of human engineering nestled between the canyon walls. Hans, with his ever-present humor, quipped about how the dam was like a giant plug, and one day he’d find where the bathtub was draining. We chuckled, but the laughter didn’t mask the sheer impressiveness of the dam, a majestic sight from our aerial vantage point, reminding us of mankind’s capacity for greatness.

Soon, the Grand Canyon itself sprawled below us, a vast expanse of geological history painted in reds, oranges, and browns. Hans transformed into a tour guide extraordinaire, pointing out landmarks and formations. But it wasn’t just a geography lesson; Hans narrated the scenery with amusing anecdotes and comparisons to his Belgian homeland. Each rock formation, he joked, resembled different types of Belgian chocolates. “That one,” he’d gesture, “is a perfect giant truffle.”

As we circled back towards Boulder City, the sun was high in the sky, bathing the landscape in a brilliant, unwavering light. Below us, the Grand Canyon remained a spectacular vision, its vastness and beauty a stark contrast to the playful narratives Hans had spun. His humorous analogies to Belgian chocolates had transformed these ancient rock formations into a delightful, edible landscape in our imaginations. This journey was more than just a sightseeing tour; it was an immersion into a world where nature’s grandeur met the whimsy of human storytelling, all under the clear, bright skies of a perfect sunny day.