Narrative Essay: A Trip To Arkansas

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“Arkansas? You're really taking me to Arkansas for my thirteenth birthday?” I remembered asking that question just a few days ago, as I walked from the chilling cold air, into the warm and welcoming country hotel. My mom was dealing with the suitcases at the counter, so my little sister, my dad, and I went into the elevator and up to our floor without her. When my mom finally came up to our floor, the 3rd floor, there were several men in her elevator, all in suits. “I swear they were like mobsters. I was hoping they would get off on a lower floor, but no, they just HAD to be on our floor,” said Mom. “I bet they’ll be loud all night.” And she was right. It sounded like a constant party, all night. Once the door opened to their room, I saw what

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