The Plane-Personal Narrative

Sitting on the plane, with my forehead pressed to the glass, utter boredom and a whole lot of annoyance settled in my stomach. My eyes idly gazed over the ocean, 40,000 feet above, as they had been for 2 hours. Both of my knees were jammed into the seat in front of me and my back was as stiff as a board. Next to me my sizably smaller sister had her head back and legs stretched, staring adamantly at Friends playing on the pint sized television stuck in the back of the chair in front of her. She was excited to land, to see Miranda and to see my dad and to spend a whole 2 weeks with them. I just wanted to get off the stupid plane and stretch my legs. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to see my dad and sister, but the idea of spending 2 weeks of my limited summer in the middle-of-nowhere Florida with no friends and nothing to do was one that held no interest to me.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally felt the plane take a dip towards the ground and shudder of the wheels being let down underneath. Shifting my legs, I leaned back from the window, my view of the speeding earth disappearing. A jolt ran through the cabin, and everything bounced as the wheels collided with the tarmac.

Walking through the terminal, we made our way out to the parking garage where my dad would be waiting.

Sitting in the backseat, I shoved my headphones into my ears, yet again staring listlessly out the window. The air was damp and salty and the highway seemed to stretch on forever. There were huge dark clouds rolling in from all sides, already heavy with rain and lighting up the sky with lightning. All the buildings were dark and dilapidated and made from stucco, an endless line of strip mall after strip mall. The palm trees stuck out awkwardly in between them, as if to remind everybody that, contrary to what they were seeing, they were still in “The Paradise