Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1999241
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Short Story · Experience · #1999241
A brief story of the day I decided to be an aviator
As a young child, I dreamt of managing trendy restaurants, sailing magnificent ships, and even designing roller coasters for a career. But now an adolescent, I landed myself on an airplane, and I desired to be the guy flying it. It must be a pilot’s life for me.

Stepping off the coach buses, I quickly fastened my coat and tried to listen to a jet engine roaring on a runway. But silence echoed through the foggy morning air. Nevertheless, a crooked “departure” sign flickered rashly above the entrance of the airport, hissing as I passed. Inside, a vast and empty floor crept and winded for miles. I discreetly slipped to the ticket counter, analyzing my big, bold boarding pass. “US Airways- Vecchio/Anthony R- US Flight 679” read the ticket. Shortly after, the hotheaded agent cursorily scanned my ticket and confiscated my check-in luggage. I witnessed my suitcase rumble along the rusty conveyor belt and disappear. I prayed for its safe arrival in Honolulu. Tip-toeing further through the airport, I clutched my ticket and flimsy carry-on bag while scrutinizing my surroundings. Narrow labyrinthine walkways led to security and ugly posters smothered windows and guards haunted the halls and scratchy announcements pierced the air and lights fluctuated violently and carts thundered on the floor and children wailed strident screams and then I stumbled into security. I still tried to hear the powerful purr of a jet engine, but then I met Bill from Homeland Security. I noticed beforehand how Bill’s mouth foamed and frothed, how his blood shot eyes stabbed through the soul. His blood boiled the veins and that quick, incisive tongue whipped everyone in his presence.

“What’s your name?” he snarled at me.

Mishearing him, I thought he snapped where is your name, as in I held a defective ticket. Quickly pointing to my name on the ticket, Bill’s muscles shook pugnaciously while he erupted like a volcano.

“What is your name?” he barked again. “And when is your birthday?”

Conspicuously, the TSA was watching me closely. Next, I embarrassingly approached the x-rays machines. I accidently placed my ticket with my cheap carry-on bag in the x-ray. Surely enough, I also forgot to retrieve my ticket after. One TSA agent howled about a lost ticket as I diffidently tried to fetch it. Determined not to let my stupid actions debut again, I sat down to wait to hike to my departure gate. But then my flimsy carry-on bag broke. My trip of a lifetime began quite faulty. But then I boarded the plane.

Stumbling down the jet way, apprehension drenched my body. I had no idea about what horrors awaited me onboard the plane. Slowly turning the final corner, the entire plane struck my eyes. But yet, my eyes did not ache. Something allured me. The massive plane? The commotion of baggage handlers? The anticipation of flying? Nevertheless, I took my first step on an airplane. All the pain and suffering I endured before failed to board with me. I simply felt safe and secure. Then I glanced towards the smiling captain and first officer.

They preached, “Welcome aboard.”

Perhaps their sincere smile or flowery florid complexion pacified me, lifted me from all my pain and sufferings in the airport. Of course, the two were to fly me above all my misery. The two pilots were to fly me in the clouds, the sky, and a realm of peace and union. All my problems were to burn below me while I soared above. Perhaps the captain and first officer appeared before me as salvation. Whatever the reason, I strolled down the aisle to my seat. Once situated, I tried to listen to the jet engines. Nothing.

“They must be turned off,” I thought. “But soon they’ll turn on and I’ll hear the awesome roar.”

Although disappointed, I still felt relieved. All my problems dissipated. Now I rested comfortably in my snug seat. I looked around the cabin, watching other passengers find their seats and flight attendants prepare for takeoff. Shortly, though, a flight attendant amicably caught everyone’s attention while the plane departed from the gate.

“Attention passengers,” she smiled, “may I please have your attention for the flowing flight safety information. At this time, please fasten your seat belts. To do so…”

My mind slowly ventured away. The scene outside the runway mesmerized my mind. The ground slowly passed beneath the plane. Illuminated signs shined brightly, informing the name of a taxiway. Lights on the pavement also perked up the pavement. The airport vanished behind as the plane rolled towards the runway. Once more, I eavesdropped on the engines. I heard a faint rumble, but it was no lion’s roar. Although disappointed by the lack of sound, I patiently awaited takeoff. Then the captain tuned into the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “this is your captain speaking. We are cleared for takeoff. Flight attendants, please be seated for departure.”

The captain’s announcement was the last event to occur before my wish. I knew that my desire would fulfill itself. No hesitation. The engines rumbled calmly, then erupted in a vivacious roar. I finally heard the roar of a jet engine! I watched as the plane’s speed increased and blurriness tainted the window. Suddenly, the plane lifted off the ground. I was flying! Objects below grew smaller and smaller while the horizon grew larger and larger. I looked down at the airport, making my final judgments. But clouds gulped up the plane, and I disappeared higher into the sky, leaving the airport behind.

This day may seem rather mundane, for thousands of people fly every day. But for me, something special bubbled. Not only did I finally fly for the first time, but I also yearned to be a pilot, despite my terror in the airport. As soon as the plane lifted off the ground and I witnessed the world below, I knew that I would never want to land. Looking down on Earth helps me think clearly; it helps me relax and enjoy life. Whether spying on a bustling city below, or just the calming ocean, I am comfortable. Life functions differently in the air, and I long to be a part of it. As an anonymous person once quoted, “To most people, the sky is the limit. To those who love aviation, the sky is home.” I have been homesick my entire life.

© Copyright 2014 Santiago Ryan (vecchant000 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1999241