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. " Wellâ€¦.. 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.