City Life for Country Girls

Step Two: Get to the City

        And in the end, of course I won.

        “Good morning, passengers,” the PA announced. “This is the final boarding call for Scarlett Henson and Thomas Dunley booked on flight 537A to New York City. Please proceed to gate seven immediately. The final checks are being completed and the captain will order for the doors of the aircraft to close in approximately five minutes time. I repeat. This is the final boarding call for Scarlett Henson and Thomas Dunley. Thank you.”

        “Scarlett, be safe,” Mom cooed, pulling me into a tight hug. “And please, wash your hair at night.” I grimaced at a few looks of disgust from some bystanders.

        “Scar, never thought it’d be this way,” Wyatt pretended to sniffle, patting my head. “But really, call me if you go around Columbia. I’ll be there, thinking about you and your burnt room.”

        Weston and Wyatt exchanged a high five, and Weston gave me a tight hug. “I’m up in Pennsylvania, so if you get lost like you always do and ride like a state over, you can go find me.”

        I shoved them. “Shut up! I don’t have time for this! I have four minutes and forty seconds to get on that plane and you guys are being morons!”

        Weston sniffed. “Ouch. That cuts, Scar. That cuts deep.”

        “Grow up, idiot.” I responded unfeelingly and gave my dad a quick hug.

        I turned around, waving a final goodbye as my elated being soared through the open doors of the--

        Suddenly, the ground seemed a lot closer than it should have been. Embarrassed, I quickly picked myself up as the flight attendant next to me helped me with a “y’alright, ma’am?”. I heard Weston and Wyatt guffawing in the distance, and I held up my fist, not bothering to turn around. Jerks.

        A few fallen suitcases and a seat confusion later, I found myself between an overweight, suntanned old guy on the right and a toddler-looking girl on the left. Were kids that age even allowed to ride?

        “Uh...where’s your mom?” I asked, gently tapping the girl’s shoulder.

        She stared up at me, her eyes wide. “Mommy.” She pointed at the guy to my right. I stared for a moment. That’s...a woman? The woman looked up at my through her hat.

        “Care to switch seats with me or my daughter? I wanna sit with her.” I quickly got up and switched seats with the little girl, sighing in relief when the plane took off without incident. I watched farmland, combed and colored, shrink into puzzle pieces as we went airborn.

        New York, here I come!

        I loved flying.

        But airplanes? Ugh. Those tray thingies are just ugh. They slide, and they go up, and they go down...

        I jerked my backpack out of the overhead bin. My heart pounded in my chest as I took a deep breath and stepped into the airport. I straightened my denim jacket and stuffed my sunhat into my backpack. It was really New York! I was standing in the JFK International Airport!

        It was huge. Metal structures and curved designs were scattered around, as if it were natural. Concave, convex, loops, straight pieces all coming together in a beautiful design. Breathtaking.

        Eager to reach the real city, I rushed towards the baggage claim. It looked oddly familiar--especially the middle part. A siren sounded and I jumped, but it seemed that that was the everyday signal meaning “hey, your luggage is going to come out now!”.