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Narrative on spring break
Narrative on spring break
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My roommate spends every spring break at Rocky Point and comes back with several horror stories, which means in a way, I understand your pain. Your last sentence made me chuckle, because from the sound of it, Mexico won. The last sentence would actually be a great hook for the beginning of your story. You clearly had many different adventures during Mexico; you honestly could talk about one story and expand on that. In the first paragraph, you had to talk yourself out of being arrested, which is a great hook, especially since you are (from what I assume), not from Mexico, which gives you a unique perspective with boarder patrol. However, I never hear more about that story throughout the text. Obviously, you used persuasion to avoid the ticket,
You kept quiet, ate the soup (even if you don’t like it), and do everything in your power to not give up and show the officers that you are not weak. “The barrack we had been assigned to was very long.” (34) The description of where they were staying showed the reader that him and his father were assigned to the same sleeping quarters.
Eight men and my mother wanted to work in the U.S., so they had to travel by bus 100 miles from southern Mexico. But the next 200 miles they had to walk through the desert in order to cross into the U.S. illegally. It was late July. Temperatures reached 110 degrees in the shade of southern Mexico, and several notches higher in the desert sun. While the bus traveled through the dirt road, my mother stood frozen in the old musty seat. Her throat constricted. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to ret...
At the age of two my parents made the long and devastating journey to bring me and my siblings to the United States from Mexico. Wanting a brighter future for us, my parents fought tooth and nail to give us the world they didn’t grow up having. Ever since stepping foot on the U.S soil, going back seemed impossible. The effects of this life-changing move, couldn’t mask the unforeseen disadvantages. Lacking exposure to Mexico’s colorful culture, little to no bonding time with my family from abroad, and the struggle of trying to blend into an environment that was so different, soon began to interfere with my overall identity. Realizing this, my wonderful parents prepared a transformative trip back to my homeland, and back to the past, facing
One day, my parents talked to my brothers and me about moving to United States. The idea upset me, and I started to think about my life in Mexico. Everything I knew—my friends, family, and school for the past twenty years—was going to change. My father left first to find a decent job, an apartment. It was a great idea because when we arrived to the United States, we didn’t have problems.
I was so close to my Mexican culture that when I was actually exposed to the American culture it was like I was from a foreign place. When I started to get used to the American culture and started becoming an “American” I was sent to Mexico to a Mexican rodeo camp. There I was with people that had the complete different ideals than what I was just getting used to. I went through the exact same thing that I had went through in America. I was found in this big mix-up.
Road I descended a hill and came upon a narrow bridge. The car went off
Stanley was hot and tired from a long nine hour bus ride. He was headed for the juvenile delinquent camp, Camp Green Lake. His wrist was hot and sweaty from the handcuff that chained him to the seat. Finally after nine hours they arrived. The bus driver waited in the bus while the bus guard took Stanley inside. It was a small building with a sign in front that read ‘You are entering Camp Green Lake juvenile correctional facility.’ He saw desert anywhere he looked. There were holes everywhere he looked. They were so even that he knew they had to be dug on purpose. He saw another sign that said ‘It is a violation of the Texas Penal Code to bring guns, explosives, weapons, drugs, or alcohol onto the premises.’ He thought that was pretty obvious.
In 1975, my mother’s parents had gone to America to try to find a stable job so they could later bring their children, to live a happier life since most of Mexico believed that America was where you
When I woke up at 5 o'clock in the morning to go hike up a mountain, I did not expect to have an exceptional day with my cousin Kelsey. We were about to trek up Mount Chiquita in Rocky Mountain National Park. What made this hike unforgettable was the morning before the hike, the hike itself, and the great time we had afterward.
My youth pastor pulled out of our church parking lot at three am in the morning loaded down with a bus full of twenty four teenagers including me. We were off at last head to Colorado Spring Colorado, little did I know, our bus was going to fall apart this very day.
dollars for his help. Many of us, mostly all young men, were driven in a van out into the desert. We carried a couple bottles of water and a few other things in our bags. We started walking. We walked and walked, following a man who said he knew where we were going. We walked all day and into the night. I finished my water, and I was very thirsty and weak. The man told us that we were crossing into America now, and we would be safe soon. Just when we started to believe we would make it, we heard the noise of a helicopter. Soon, we were flooded with light from above. The helicopter landed, and we were surrounded by men in uniforms, all speaking English very quickly. They gave us some water, and after an hour or two, they loaded us onto a bus that had come to take us away. It was horrible. They took us right back to Mexico and dropped us across the border. I don 't give up easily, though. After a few days of rest, I tried again. This time I made it and here I am! (qtd. in Limón)
One day in the middle of the summer, this was the day i have been looking forward to all summer.It was thewday my family gets to go to Cedar Point . My mother has been saying “This is the time you will able to ride the Top Thrill Dragster.” We have been measuring how tall i have been for weeks to make sure i could ride the Top Thrill Dragster.I have been waiting all summer to be able to ride it and the day finally came that i was tall enough about two weeks ago.
This isn’t an ordinary romantic story. This is a little different. It all started when my family moved to a small town called Mystic Fall. There we lived in a nice house with a big backyard. I loved it, the house was so simple and had a big porch for all of us to enjoy the nature. Life was amazing until college started and I had to back to college. Although it still wasn’t that bad, since I lived near I always drove home when my classes finished. The town folks were welcoming, they walked around with big smiles and waved at us when we passed by. This town wasn’t like any other place I’ve been to, their towns would be filled with gangs and murders and rape. But this town was clean. I didn’t see any violence here at all, although right in the middle of the town there was a huge fortified mansion with a lot of people in suits and a lot of people were armed. This mansion was magnificent, it was painted white with balconies and had a colorful yard with a big black gate.
As the dark stadium filled with fire, with the sounds of guns and bombs exploding everywhere, the crazed fans yelled at the top of their lungs. The enormous stage was rumbling with the sound of a single guitar as the band slowly started their next encore performance. Soon after I realized that I was actually at the Sanitarium concert listening to Metallica play "One", I thought to my self, "Is this real, am I actually here right now?" I had a weird feeling the entire time because I had worked all summer to simply listen to music with a bunch of strangers.
Mom and dad where packing up the vehicle.My brothers look like walking zombies as they got up on the van. I couldn 't stop smiling of joy. As we all got in the vehicle to settle in I yell out " Goodbye California, Hello Mexico!!". My parents where not playing when they said it was going to be a long trip, took us at least four days and 3 nights. I just recall that because I slept most of the time. I heard my father say " estamos aqui Gorda ", other words " we here fatty", don 't get my father wrong fatty was a nickname for me since a baby I belive. Hey what can I say I was a pretty chubby kid, but that 's other story.I started to look out the window all ready can see different life style even the air smell different too.I was known to ask many questions as a kid , hey I still do. What can I say I am a curios