Memiors (standard:other, 415 words) [4/9] show all parts
Author: I Am His Name	Added: Sep 25 2000	Views/Reads: 2956/3	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
One kid realizes that his generation is being run by a pop culture lifestyle. This is his journal. (Updated Almost Daily) Comments Welcome!

Tuesday, September 12, 2000 

“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.” Clemenza, The Godfather 

We are now departing from your haven, on a six and a half hour ride
through hell. 

As you look to your left, you will see English class. Filled to the brim
with kids who try to sleep as the teacher reads us a speech Christopher 
Reeves gave. 

While we turn to the left, you will notice Spanish class, with kids who
make fun of the teacher’s accent and girls who put hairspray on every 
other minute. 

As we bank sharply to the left, you will see Global. When the plane
starts turning, I pray that a Boeing 747 airplane crashes into our 
small little, coach only plane. That the wing slits through the middle 
section and exits out the other side, taking half the stewardesses body 
with it. That the ceiling and the floor peel off and fly out the 
ever-expanding rip in the planes side. That the seats that looked safe 
and sturdy when we get on tear off with the passengers in it, and they 
fly out the plane too. But oh! Don’t worry; the oxygen masks will help 
you. 

Take a look out your newly created hole and see Lunch. The kids are
hanging outside smoking, and the kids inside are making out in the 
corner. The rip gets bigger after every bite of the hamburgers and the 
puffs of smoke. 

Look closer and notice that gym is also close by. And then Word
Processing. 

Your seat is getting looser, and the oxygen masks are flapping in front
of you and hitting your face. You can barely see Math class. With its 
integers and its fractions, all just little dots to your eyes. The 
debris from the food cabin is flying at your face. The teacher gets 
happier as she sees all the debris falling from the sky. She gives her 
class more homework. Please return your tray tables to their upright 
and locked positions. 

The ‘You can take off your seatbelt’ sign dings. So you do. And let the
air take you away. We have just lost cabin pressure. You are flying 
away, and you can see your house. And you head their, not even knowing 
the pain your about to face will be slim to none, since your not really 
falling at all. You wake up when the flight attendant that got killed 
taps you on the shoulder and asks if you would like a drink.


Tweet