Flying Solo to Tobago - Original Writing

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Flying Solo to Tobago - Original Writing For the fist time ever I was flying on my own to Tobago in the Caribbean to see my grandfather and the rest of the family. No fussing parents flying with me this time. Things had not got off to a good start however. I could not believe it had taken me thirty-six hours from checking in at Heathrow Airport to actually getting on the plane. I think I need to explain, so let me go right back to the beginning. We had left home that morning at six o'clock, with the rain beating down on my father's car, making a noise rather like stones on a corrugated iron roof. I think corrugated roofs came into my mind, which was still recovering from getting up so early, because so many of the houses in Tobago were like this. The warmth of the car was comforting, as was the prospect of the tropical weather that awaited me. Despite the early hour, the roads were full of other cars, sloshing along the damp roads like we were all on one giant Log Flume ride as they have at Thorpe Park. It was with great anticipation and a little apprehension that I made my way to the check-in desk. It was still dark outside, but inside the glare of the harsh artificial lights revealed hundreds of milling passengers chatting animatedly. As far as we were concerned there was little conversation. I suspected my Mum and Dad were not looking forward to saying goodbye. By 8.30 I had checked in and had been allocated the window seat I wanted. Things were looking good. I still had my goodbyes to get over however. For the tenth time I checked that I had my passport and boarding pass. " Well….. I guess it's time I went through to Departures", I said, my voice quivering unavoidably. Keeping check of my emotions was proving harder than I thought, but before I knew it, all the kissing and handshaking was over and I found myself alone.

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