Personal Narrative-American Airlines

The microphone boomed as passengers calmly took their seats.
"Welcome to American Airlines! We hope you enjoy the ride."
The planes interior was pearl white, with rows of jet black seats that seemed to go on forever, and were so cushioned that you sunk into them. The smell of the interior comforting, yet off putting. The almost blinding lights shown from the ceiling lit the interior. The scene was calm.
Suddenly, a boy came rushing in, pushing past a pleasantly plump passenger, in a rush to take his seat. He looked about around 10 or 11. He quickly sat down, with a wild look in his deep blue eyes, which were partially covered by his long jet black hair. He had light colored skin, but his cheeks were bright red, and he breathed heavily,

not used to running so fast. He was short for his age, but he considered himself fun size. He wore a hunter orange sweatshirt, sweatpants, and high tops. Nothing he wore was pre-owned, and was all "name brand". Meanwhile, an older man, who looked to be in his early thirties, came hurrying onto the plane, trying to be polite, as he squeezed between other passengers to get to the boy. They shared the same features. He looked like a older, aged version of the young boy. He was fit, and unlike the boy, he wore a grey business suit. He was trying to look professional. However, he was drenched with sweat, looking like he had just run a 5k. The man, finally making it to the boy, took a minute to catch his breath. The boy looked up at him, as if he had nothing nothing wrong.
He crossed his arms, now showing his anger. He began to speak in a stern voice, that echoed throughout the plane.
"Don't you ever do that again Alex. What were you thinking!"
"I'm sorry Dad, I was just excited," he replied innocently.
The Father, not taking that for an answer began to shout.
"Thats not an excuse! I just can't believe you-"
He stopped, as the sound of silence filled the room.

Anonymous whispers began to echo throughout the plane. His anger began to dissolve, and he took his seat next to his son.
The plane began to move down the runway, its engines coming to life. Slowly, it began to take of into the sky.
After a long silence between the two, the father began to apologize "I'm sorry son, but you can't do that to me. You could have gotten in serious trouble," he whispered sternly.
"I'm sorry Dad, I was just really excited that we would be flying in a plane. It's so cool! Flying is awesome!" He replied, while staring out the window, watching as they flew past clouds. "Have you been on a plane before Dad?" He asked, curiously.
The father sighed.
"I know Alex, it is cool. And yes son, I have been on a plane before. I went flying last week." He replied. "And guess what? After we get off the plane, we can tell Mom all about it," he said in a calm voice.
"I can't wait!" Alex cried. He began to bounce up and down, kicking the seat in front of him.
The women sitting in the seat, began to get irritated.
The father turned his head towards his son. "Alex, sit still." He scolded.
Alex stopped. He looked down, knowing he was in

trouble.
"Sorry Dad." He mumbled.
The father leaned over the seat "I'm terribly sorry. My name is John. Sorry about my son, he just gets easily excited."
She turned around. "It's okay. My son is the same way." She laughed.
"Alex, what's gotten into you?" He asked, concerned.
"Nothing...," he mumbled. "Everything's fine." He grumbled, staring at the picture his mother sent in the mail of them all together.
"Alex, what's wrong?" He asked, more concerned then ever. He eyed the picture and figured it out right before he said it.
"Well, it's just,... are you and Mom gonna get back together?" He asked, his innocence showing.
"No Alex, were not. Your Mother and I... have moved on. I'm sorry."
A look of disappointment fell across his face. "Oh, okay."
"Hey buddy, look and the bright side, you get to spend two whole weeks with Mom. And when you come home, we can make sundaes: with chocolate ice cream, whipped cream, with a cherry on top!" He exclaimed.
A grin slowly creeped up on his sons face. "Will there be chocolate chips on them?" He asked.
The father grinned "You bet,"
"I can't wait!" Alex cried.

They were halfway through the flight when John turned to talk to his son, but he was asleep.
"Can't blame him, it is late," he sighed. He pulled out his phone, the bright screen illuminating the darkness that consumed the plane. "9:30" he thought, as he checked the time. He slipped the phone back into his pocket. "He hasn't stopped moving since this morning." He took the picture from his son's lap, and looked down at the picture of them. He sighed.
I wish things could go back to the way things were, he thought. I miss her so much. But I can't. Its to late. The past is the past. He set the picture back down in his sons lap. I should get some rest too. It's going to be a long day tomorrow, he thought. I'm so tired, I could sleep forever! He joked to himself.
He glanced at his son, before dozing off.
He awoke to bright flashing red lights, and the microphone booming. "Attention passenger! We're losing altitude! Brace yourselves for impact!"
John, panicking, searched for his son, who had seemed to vanish, which was his Achilles heel. He didn't even have a chance to prepare himself for impact, before a suitcase came out of no where, and hit him in the back of the skull. His vision blurred, as he slumped to the floor. Looking around frantically, he could barely see the chaos around him. He tried to call out, but the wind was knocked out of him from another bag that fell from the ceiling, hitting him square in the chest. He tried to stand, but his legs buckled under him, and he collapsed to the floor. The world around him slowly faded into darkness, as he fell unconscious.
Dazed and confused, he awoke. It took a moment for his pupils to dilate to the darkness of the room. He limbs where stiff and sore. He tried to sit up, but a sharp, sickening pain started in his chest and head and jolted throughout his body. He fell to the ground. He tried to observe the area, but even turning his head sent shockwaves of pain throughout his body. He laid there for what seemed like eternity, trying to gather his strength. Clenching his teeth, He lifted his head again, the pain making him nauseous. Looking around the darkness, he managed to get a view of his surroundings.
Rubble and debris lay around him. In front of him, he could faintly see the outline of what looked like a body, and the scene suddenly became darker. The pungent smell of blood filled the room. It was so strong he could almost taste it. Gasping, he covered his mouth. What sounded like a faint whimper came from his mouth.
"I-I have to get out of here," he cried.
Frantically, he tried to stand, subsiding the pain; he couldn't manage it. His coat was caught underneath a heavy object, somewhat resembling a chair. Pushing with all his might, he got his coat out from underneath. A headache throbbed in his skull as he stood. large amounts of voices came from outside, and the longer he stayed inside, the stronger the stench of blood became. Looking around, he saw a hole in the wall of the wreckage. He soon realized that this hole was the door. It was cracked open. He began to limp toward it, but his legs wouldn't support him. He collapsed to the ground once again. Looking up he realized the door was only a view feet away. He started to crawl toward the door, like a cat, sneaking up on its pray. Finally making it there, he leaned up against the door. Using what little energy he had left, he pushed against the door. It slowly was forced open, and John came tumbling out, gasping for air, trying to escape the stench of death.
Finally out, he looked up. Standing in front of him were what seemed like millions of people. Yellow "DO NOT CROSS" lines were around the wreckage and seemed to expand for miles. A few people yelled, and their attention all turned on him. For a moment, there was a eerie silence that seemed to last a life time. Men began to rush towards him but it was to late. Before they could reach him, he collapsed onto the ground. He could hear the screams of people once again, as he was lifted up, and carried into a ambulance. He faded into a deep sleep, with the unsettling sound of sirens in the background.
Bright lights from above gleamed into his eyes as he awoke, they reminded him of the sun, blinding, obscuring his vision. Except this time, he was in a white, plain room. A few pictures decorated the walls, were as crooked as a hunchbacked lawyer. The dry, stale, musty air filled his nostrils, and he coughed. He was lying in a bed. He looked at himself in the bed, and was surprised to see himself in some type of blue nightgown. He tried to move, but his body was stiff and sore: his back was locked up, his neck hurt to move, and his joints were inflamed. He felt sharp pain in his arms. Looking at his arms he was surprised to see machinery hooked up to them. He then noticed movement on the other side of the room. It appeared to be a women in a white uniform. John began to speak.
"Hey! You! Where am I?" He called to the women. She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a voice, clearly not expecting it, as she dropped a clipboard and pen. She slowly walked over towards him. John sifted in the bed, as the women's reaction scaring him. "Your awake," she calmly said as she approached.
"How... how is this possible," she mumbled, as she began to rush out of the room.
"Wait, what do you mean?" John yelled. But it was to late, as she had already left the room. "Can you at least put the lights out? They're killing my eyes!" He yelled pointlessly. He was confused at what was happening, and wanted answers.
Soon she came running back into the room, speaking frantically to someone outside the door "I'm telling you, he's awake!"
The man began to argue in a unconvinced tone as he walked into the room "I'm telling you Angel, it's impossible-" he fell silent when seeing John, as if in shock.
"I can't believe it," he exclaimed. He briskly walked up to John.
"How do you feel?" The man standoffishly inquired.
"A little confused," John replied "I'm not sure where I am, or what happened."
The man smiled, "Your in the hospital."
"Oh," John replied. A confused look came across Johns face "But, where's my son?" John asked anxiously, scanning the room, hoping his son would be there.
The man replied, scratching his chin "Your son was in a coma, like you were. He woken up a few weeks ago, and was released from the hospital."
"Can I see him?" He begged.
"In time," the man replied, anxiously, unsure of how the patient would respond. "You need some time to recover," he explained.
"Okay," he mumbled, slumping down in the bed.

A couple months pass, and after a few successful surgeries, John was able to leave the hospital. He drove past row after row of houses. A cool fall breeze brushed leaves across the road as he drove. You could hear the whoosh of the howling wind, as he drove. His son, Alex stood, staring at him through the glass front door, smiling. He appeared to look older; His hair was cut short, and he seemed taller. John got out of the car, calmly walking towards the house. His son flung open the house door, and sprinted towards his father. He jumped into his father arms, giving him a huge hug.
"Dad your okay!" Alex cried.
"Alex, don't overwhelm him," A voice called out from the house.

"Sorry Mom," he frowned, as he got down for his father arms.
"Angela? Is that you?" John called out.
She walked out from the house. She wore a plaid shirt, with blue jeans. Her curly blonde hair was tied up in a pony tail. She walked up to John, a gave him a hug. John got cold feet. It had been along time since he had last seen her, and wasn't quite sure how to respond to the hug.
Suddenly, John exclaimed "It's been a while since I last saw you. How's Alex been for you?"
"I've been good Dad! Don't worry!"
"Alex, don't interrupt," she scolded.
"Whoops, sorry Mom!"
She pulled away from John "Anyways, how do you feel John?" She inquired, showing deep concern for him.
"Fine," he paused, trying to think, "But I'm just happy to see you two have been okay," he replied.
"It's great to know you skill care about us... about me," she stumbled.
"Of course I do," he replied. "And I want to work things out between us, for our son."
"I do too," she replied, smiling.
Their son ran up to them both, excited. "Hey Mom, Dad, you guys want to play?" He asked innocently.
"What do you say Angela," he asked sarcastically "Want to play?"
"You bet," she replied,

jokingly.
"Well, in that case," John mumbled "Your it!" He cried, tagging Angela and running away.
"I don't think so!" Angela jokingly yelled, as she chased after John.
Alex was left standing there, watching them chase each other around the yard, when they paused.
"Son, are you coming to play?" John called out.
"You bet!" He called out.
As they played, Alex thought to himself with a grin to himself, Mom and Dad are back together again, giddily.