On Saturdays, I would usually get up, eat breakfast, brush my teeth and get dressed to go out. But that Saturday was different. That Saturday I had to go visit my uncle in New Zealand. I had purposely been ignoring my uncle since the 4th grade when he bought me an ugly christmas sweater and forced me to wear it. That whole day I got obnoxious laughs by everyone. But I was 18 and that was years ago.
I was staying in New Zealand for about 2 or 3 weeks. Me obviously being a girl, I brought 2 fully packed luggages with extra things I might need. But I knew the flight would get boring and I would be seated next to a loud little boy who doesn't stop crying. So I took my laptop filled with movies and my phone filled with games, hoping to be entertained for the upcoming 18 hour flight.
My father drove me to the JFK airport. We lived about 30 minutes away but it was Saturday and the traffic was horrible. I was determined to have fun in New Zealand especially because it was summer over there and winter over here.
When we arrived, all my nerves finally kicked in. I realized I had never been on a plane by myself, I had always flown with my parents. The first flight by myself is from New York to New Zealand. I was going to be stuck on a plane for 18 hours by myself. I hated it.
After checking the luggage I had to go through security. The security took an awfully long time, it was being held up by a guy in a wheel chair or so i was told. When the security check was over, I got my ticket to board the plane. I was put in 18A, aisle seat.
When I finally reached my seat, I decided to get comfortable. I wondered if anyone nice would be accompanying me in this long, mentally agonizing flight that was about to happen. Bu...
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... So I just cried. I cried until my eyes burnt. It hurt more to see that beside his camera he had printed a picture of us under the Eiffel tower a week before. I turned the picture around to see writing on it.
A picture is worth a thousand words. I love you.
I was an even bigger mess after reading that. He died happy, he died loved.
And so here I am 9 years later, working as one of the top surgical doctors in New York, specializing in cancer, and helping cancer patients. After Andrew died I was determined to find a cure for his cancer, and so I did. I did it for him. Cancer took his body but his soul is still with me. I also developed a hobby for photography, capturing every beautiful sunset and patient. Andrew would be proud I know it.
Welcome to flight 562, where you fall in love and theres nothing you can do about it. Have a nice day!
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The “First Flight” is an excellent short story that made pathos for the reader to portray in the life of an everyman who has to deal with exclusion and people’s bad choices. Gregory is an 18 year old who just wants to be sociable but everyone just shuts him out and doesn’t pay attention to him. He stops in a train station to warm up and is ridiculed on a false accusation of stealing a pilot uniform. W.D Valgardson perfectly shows both of the main themes.
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