Drury Inn-Personal Narrative

The road, or more appropriately, the path leading the town of Opal essentially consisted of dirt and jagged pebbles. Needless to say it wasn’t the most favored road amongst the neighbors, especially those with wagons as the wheels consisting of flimsier spokes would often break or create a hitch. I didn’t so much have an issue with taking the path, aside from the semi-agonizing distance, as I was wearing my work boots, but it was honestly still an eyesore. However, I enjoyed the views of both the left and right side of the path. They were both rolling hills coated with lush oceans of green, despite the recent frigid weather as they defied the norm associated with the winter season. It was truly transitioning into a beautiful day, allowing the

Why had these thoughts embedded in me? I don’t know, but it about 45 minutes passed when I crossed Yonge Street. A couple of blocks ahead, to my right, I found “The Fox and Firkin Pub” and walked in. Just as in the dream, I sat down at the bar and asked for a pint of Buzz Amber Lager, but the one who attended me was a 2bot, as it had become common in most establishments and stable businesses. The 2bot was supposed to resemble a young affable and blonde young woman, but like all 2bots, I felt somewhat in a new frontier. Anyway, the 2bot did managed to be friendly with me—uncannily told me, “the night seems enormously white and blue,” and like everyone in the establishment and the crowded streets of Toronto I let myself be carried by normality,

As I road into town, brushing the dust off my Stetson, I sighed in relief. The dusty trails of Texas can really take a tole on a man. I was tired, and made my way straight to the Golden Coral Inn. I hadn’t heard much of the happenings of this town and was curious, but being a man of few words, I decided to just sit back in the lounge and listen to what was to be said. It was interesting, as talk up this way normally is. I heard there was a range war goin’ on a little ways out of town, between an old timer and a stronger, more powerful ranch. The bigger ranch, the Circle J, was wantin’ the land that the little ranch had. The littler ranch, the T Bar, wasn’t sellin’ though. He was gettin’ his cows rustled and every other dirty trick in the book. I was about to head up to my room when I heard a name that stopped me dead in my tracks: Tom Wesley.

It was a gray day. Unable to pierce the layers of powdery black skies along with the fog, the sun did not shine. The thick mist that was not really rain, and not really fog covered the southeastern corner of New Jersey. Just like most days in the area surrounding the Overbrook Asylum, it was daunting. On the outside, Overbrook was a welcoming place, as far as sanatoriums go, where patients were treated with care along with respect; the inside was very different. Hired on at the asylum as a nurse in May of 1910, I commenced my duties and was eager to be able to lend a helping hand to the people in need. What made people tick or to what made people think the way they did had always interested me. The hospital provided me a living area for

Have you ever seen the TV show the “Walton’s?” If you have, then you will definitely be able to identify how unique the place was where I was raised. I was raised in North Arkansas in a small community called Onia. In fact, the road that I lived on was called Lawrence Road. It was named this because all of my relatives lived down this road. My Grandpa, who is now a retired Baptist preacher, lived down this road along with his brothers and sisters. The church that I grew up going to was also pastored by my grandfather for over thirty years and it was about two miles down the road. The community bordered the Ozark National Forest so it was very rural and isolated. Most of the traffic on Lawrence Road was mainly the people who lived

Ever since i was a kid, my parents always told me to never steal anything and never do any piracy. That is one thing that I still and always will follow my entire life. When I was a kid, I stole a candy bar and my parents caught me. I got in big trouble. I had to My day was as normal as ever, after work I came home around 7 p.m. and i'm going to the bar now. I went to “Kevin’s Bar’ and bought myself a $20 drink. I had only $30 left before i was out of money. All the girls saw me buy that expensive drink for myself, seeing that I was at self-pity and they all repelled away from me. Those $30 extra dollars that I had was gone in 10 minutes of self-pity. I was starting to get really drowsy here and there being at the bar for hours and hours. I eventually approached the girls at the V.I.P. area, but they all ignored me and was being dragged away.I got drowsy again. The last thing I heard was screaming and arguing from the girls before the door closed . Something came into my hands before I was dragged away, but i don’t know what it is, anyway I didn't care as long as i got home. I called my wife to bring me home who was later that

Today, we reached The Dalles. Nate told us we have two choices. Either we can float down the river, or we can go around Mt. Hood. We talked it over, and almost everyone agrees we should go around. I'm certain everybody remembers Ezekiel and the river, and none of us want to go through that again. So we start on Barlow Road, which will take us around the mountain, tomorrow. Things aren't getting much better here. We are all so tired. I think that once we get to Oregon, I will just sleep through winter.

In my essay I am going to compare things from the book Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet to events in my life. In the book on page 9 paragraph one it talks about how after Marty’s mother passed away Marty kept busy at college to avoid his dad and the reality of the situation. Marty only came back home for laundry and in asking his father for money which his dad always gave him because he felt awful. In my life I have known a lot of people that deal with death in this same way. They work a lot and keep themselves busy to avoid the life situation that’s really happening. In my opinion, this is not the best way to deal with grief because eventually it’s going to catch up with you.

My car totaled out in a ditch, sirens blaring causing a distinct ring in my ears that seemed to last for days and blue lights strobing like a dub step concert, I sat there on my bumper listening to the radio like never before. It was a quite night in March of 2016 when an event would change my outlook on humanity itself. Never will I respond to call with out the thought of this may go bad quick.

I continued to take shots and miss them, advance up the court, fumble the ball, and then turn it over. What I didn’t do was the look at the crowd, the score, the clock, or Coach Foley. The stern look on his face masked the aggravation, fuming, and unsatisfied mentality he had. His folded, muscular, arms, that could not be unwrapped, were cemented to his chest. His large, positioned feet were engraved into the sideline. His perspective had been changed about me.

I am sitting on the first booth table against the wall by the main entrance at Stella’s in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The smell of alcohol and sweat filled my nostrils as I breathe in the stuffy air. All around me are young people who are laughing a little too loudly, flirting with strangers, talking with friends, and playing video games while watching cartoons that are being played all around the bar. There are many people in this bar on a Saturday night at 11:35 pm. There are very little sitting and people coming in and out of various groups of people. Some of the people are losing their balance and attach to a friend or stranger to help them walk in a straight line. The women’s bathroom is packed with women and it is very little to none in

“Dad, it doesn’t seem fair,” announced Racer, disappointment coloring his voice. The set in his jaw and the pinch in his brow spoke more emphatically than his words. Though he didn’t believe a single word that came out of his mouth, he couldn’t stop himself from uttering this statement. Basketball was Racer’s passion: he ate, and breathe the very essence of basketball. He believed that he might even love it more than his eldest brother Victor, who had an unfortunate car accident a couple of years earlier, and yet they approved of his playing of basketball. Do not get him wrong, he was very happy for his big brother, but it just didn’t seem fair. Usually he followed he parent’s decision as being final, but this time he just couldn’t let it

It was Friday morning. The varsity girls basketball team had their very first home game tonight at 7:00. Allie, the freshman point guard on the team was especially nervous for this game because she would be playing with all older people in front of a big crowd of a lot of people she knew. Her shaky hands were clammy the whole day and she couldn’t think straight. Her teachers and classmates could tell something was wrong so they told her that her game that night would be fine and she would do great.

Even though I have not been all around the world, I consider myself a traveler, particularly when I travel to Greece to visit family. People there know I am not Greek just by the way I carry myself, and I can't decide if it's good or bad that I stick out. My olive skin tone and brown almond-shaped eyes may look Greek, but I don’t act Greek. I don’t even speak the language fluently. My broken sentences aren't a problem when it comes to making friends because Greeks convey their emotions with expressive hands gestures. Even though everyone there is friendly, I still feel like an outsider. The language barrier and my American cultural mindset isolate me, but both allow me to see Greece differently than the locals and to become introspective.

That’s how long the bus ride took from, my home, Bethel Park Pennsylvania to Omaha Nebraska. Days before we arrived in Omaha, my teammates and I lost the Pennsylvania state championship game. We were the number one seed and a heavy favorite but were upset in a gritty back and forth struggle against a bitter rival. Sometimes it takes a painful loss to make us change our ways. Never the less you win as a team and lose as a team. Nobody believed in our team and were a definitive underdog from day one. We were called “cupcakes”, “an easy win” and “unproven” by other players, coaches and tournament staff. We wouldn’t give up though, we fought adversity as it stood before us and laughed in our faces. Going into the first game we were not scared, we were determined. After all the ridicule and hate, it was time to put our money where our mouths are. The group stages were like a walk in the park for the Pittsburgh powerhouse, as we routed teams from North Dakota, California and Ohio without contest. Proving our worth in this tournament we were no longer considered a “cupcake” we were the beasts from the east. With one of the most explosive scorers in the tournament and clutch brick wall goalie, things were looking up. “Lions don’t lose sleep over the opinions of sheep”. I once saw this quote online and implement it into everyday situations in my life. For instance the “sheep” or the other teams that did not think we deserved to be at nationals