Flight 212 has Landed

I hate the label insane. No, I’m not insane. That’s the word that people use when they can’t explain their behavior. I’m not saying that I can explain it either, it just happens.

            Here is when all the “insanity” happened. I was finally going to go to Disney World. I have been begging my parents ever since I’ve heard, and could speak the world Disney. And now, when I was at age 5, I was finally able to go.

Flashback:

            The white limo with dark windows rolls up to my driveway. My parents are groggy, but smile as I tug on their pants to go into the limo. Once the luggage and everyone else is inside, the only thing that stops me from bouncing like a hyper jumping bean was the constricting seatbelt. I sit up and watch the passing trees through the window while I jabber away things only a 5 year old would be able to understand.

            The limo finally pulls up to the airport, and I run out, until my mom calls me back of course. I gaze up at the big, white airport. Everything about it is big. The stairs were so tall; I had to hop each step, all the way to the top. Even the people were big! I saw a man who was surely a basketball player, I tried to show my mom, but she scolded me for pointing so much.

            After we were checked in, and waiting for our flight, we had to wait patiently in these squishy, blue chairs. The people in the airport all looked like they were from outer space. “How are there so many people in one building? Where did they all come from?” I said aloud to anyone who was listening, which nobody was.

            Fsssshhhhhoooommm! An airplane lands in the landing area. I bite my lip from crying, that thing scared me so much. I look back and find both my parents talking with an old friend. I ran to them, telling them how that big airplane almost hit me. They just looked at each other and smiled, catching it as a sign that everything is okay; I smiled too, with my tearstained face shining with true happiness.

            An hour later of daydreaming I heard, “Flight 212, headed to Florida, has arrived.” Said a calm, female voice. I get up and look for my parents. Where’d they go? I look everywhere, but I sit in my seat because they told me to stay there no matter what. I bite my lip so hard I feel like I might bleed, so I stop. Noticing that their bags are gone, I get scared. “Maybe they are on the plane, so I take my luggage with me and walk into a doorway that looks like it has no end.

            I sit in seat 241A, the seat that my ticket says I should be on. I sit patiently and watch the movie on the screen in front of me. When the plane is finally docked, and I’m in the Florida airport, I sit in the same looking squishy blue chairs, waiting for my parents to come out. I watch every person walk by, but I don’t see Mommy or Daddy.

            Next thing I know, I see people with shocked faces and some are even with tears in their eyes. I see what everybody is looking at, on the TV, there is a picture of a plane that crashed due to a pack of birds flew into the propeller, causing it to malfunction. There were no survivors. The plane crashed into a Mc Donald’s parking lot. Horrific pictures and plans of how the crash could have happened flash across the screen. I glance in the crowd, watching everyone’s emotions flood at me like a river; then, I see my parents in the crowd, but instead of looking at the TV, they are looking at me, obviously trying to smile, but their tear streaked faces won’t let them. I take one more look at the TV before comforting my mom and dad.

            What I saw on the screen haunts me till the day I die. I see my name, in bold. Gregory Still. In a trance, I listen to the words that come next. “Gregory, age 5, was not found on the plane. In fact, there is no proof that he even got on the plane.” I almost yell, “I’m right here! What is this?” But I remember my parents and try to find them in the crowd again. I had no such luck.

This is how I got to where I am now:

            When I was in a crowd, a man tried to steal me, but a kind lady got to me first and said she was looking for me everywhere. The scary man left. Next, the lady asked me where my parents are, I told her I saw them in the crowd. We both were looking very hard, but we never found them. So, she took me to the Police Station and told an old police man behind the counter that I lost my parents. He asked me what my name was, and so I said Gregory Still. The woman stood there and started sobbing, so the police man then took me into his office, and told me to stay there, so he will go and find my parents. 10 minutes later, he comes back with another man who told me that my parents were on the crashed plane.

            I lived with that man for a year, trying to find family to adopt me. On my 7^th birthday, the man had a heart attack, so I had to be transported to an orphanage. For 10 years I stayed there. It was wonderful, the food was good, and so were the kids, but families kept on choosing to every other kid except me. On my 18^th birthday, I signed papers that let me leave the orphanage.

            Ever since I stepped outside the green doors of my 2^nd home, dressed in a Coca Cola shirt and old navy pants with the suitcase that I never opened since the crash; things were always hard for me. Well, I have to go now, my mom and dad are calling me.