Helicopter: A Short Story

Furthermore, O’Brien describes this jumbo jet as if it is a real bird. He explains its appearance as “a big sleek silver bird with feathers and talons high and screeching”, to explain the beauty of this plane. He uses imagery to emphasize the significance the freedom birds has on them. O’Brien gives a clear picture to allow readers to understand that even with their emotional baggage, they still have hope that they will one day be happy

In the months, weeks, and eventually days leading up to my flight to Germany the panic was gnawing away at me. Despite the fact that this wasn’t the first time I was venturing out without my parents or even my first time on a plane, it was my first time for a myriad of other experiences in my life. My first international adventure, my first time living with a family that wasn’t my own, and my first time being surrounded by people speaking a different language; all of which began with a simple decision to cross the threshold between the jet bridge and the plane.

On September 25, 1978, I was a 16-year-old inspiring young pilot going to high school within 10 miles of San Diego’s Lindbergh International Airport. It was about

I remember the first time I flew in an airplane. My eight-year-old self looked out the window of the terminal I was taking off from, astounded by the large size of the vehicle. Worried, I thought to myself how could something that big fly with so many people? Yet, as the plane took off my worries became excitement. Not only was this my first flight, this was the event that marked the start of my new life, my takeoff from Vietnam to America.

Coming from humble beginnings in Taylor, Michigan a medium sized town of 60,000 thirty minutes from the heart of Detroit and living just near Detroit Metropolitan International airport. I was came to be fascinated by anything related to the world of aviation hearing the powerful roar as the engines spooled up and seeing such a massive object like a jumbo jet tumbling down the runway it always amazed me to see such a thing take to the sky. Seeing the airplanes coming in and coming out made me think to myself where the people onboard have been the places they’re coming from, where they are going, all the interesting and far off places that I didn’t know if I’d ever see my lifetime. This inspired me when I was 18 years old to join the United States Air Force and get paid to fix and work on these massive machines.

Before I realize it, I am flying through the cotton clouds that give a sense of dimension in the vastness of the sky. It is a sight that I have seen too many times, but can never get used to. Soaring 45,000 feet above ant-sized figures, I watch as my hometown vanishes. A short announcement by a friendly voice cuts the silence. Fourteen hours pass more quickly than I expected,

It was 7:00 am on a summer morning and I was still in a daze after just being woken up. Today was to the day that I was going to see my sister and as soon as I made sure I had everything, I headed out. My sister lived far and instead of wasting gas to drive, I was going to fly. I was on my way to the airport with my mom and grandma and as we got closer, my heart began to race with fear and anticipation. It wasn’t because I was afraid of flying, because I actually loved it. I loved the way fields looked like worn quilts from so high above. However this time was different, because on this trip, my family would not be accompanying me and I would be flying alone.

I, someone with absolutely no experience flying a plane, was in the pilot’s seat and Wayne, a daring and trusting flight instructor, was co-pilot. Wayne sat back in his chair, one arm resting on the door of the Cessna 172 airplane – one with no air conditioning or heating and only two seats – and the other hand balancing his mug of freshly brewed coffee. “‘Take your hands off the controls and let the plane fly by itself’” he said. I stared at him; cruise control did not exist on this aircraft for sure. “’The plane wants to fly. All you need to do is guide it’”. So I took my hands off the yoke, my feet off the rudders, and let the plane fly by itself 1500 feet above the hills of Southwest Ohio.

It was on an unplanned July day that my two best friends, Fiona and Matthew had decided to take me skydiving for the first time. As I stepped onto the plane, Fiona gave me a smile. I was then left to myself. I felt droplets of sweat drip down the side of my face, but I disregarded it, in hopes that it was due to the density of the suit, unsuited for a hot summer day such as this. When I walked to my seat and tried to settle myself, however, I realized the main problem wasn't the suit. Soon, the engine roared, giving life to the airplane, and the ground started fleeing. From the side windows I could see the outside landscape moving faster and faster, and finally, disappearing. Butterflies started fluttering in my stomach, giving me a sense of nervousness different from anything I've ever experienced before. I realized then that this experience was more than a daring step into the uncharted...

Sitting in this stuffed helicopter with nothing but the sound of these self proclaimed “badasses for hire” brag about their tech the entire ride, almost makes me pray for a anti-air cannon to take us down. It doesn’t help that our employer is so damn secretive that he had us drive to the middle of no where in order to get picked up and won't even tell us where we're going. A Piasecki h-21b Work horse a dinosaur among helicopters even if we didn’t get taken down this fossil could give out on us at any second, yet our we’re all crammed inside the damn thing. Now that I’m in the big leagues I better start getting use to these strangers terms, if I want to make some real cash.

But his focus was no longer on the sunset; rather, it was on two faint shapes beginning to form in the sky as they came closer to the town. It soon became apparent that they were small airplanes. The people in the planes were lying almost flat; held in place by a sturdy leather sling. The frame was not very large, and was just thick enough to be able to hold the sling safely. Two long wings spread out horizontally from each side of the frame, one pair adjacent to the top part and the other set bracing the bottom. Towards the back, a smaller set of wings served as rudders. Three propellers were positioned on the craft, a large one at the nose of the plane and two smaller ones on the tips of the large wings of the plane. An adjustable rod was placed towards the front in order to give the flier a way to maneuver their small craft.

The sound of the Cessna 152's engine was one that I knew all too well. That familiar buzzing sound's constant ring in my ear, aside from the voice of my instructor, was often the only sound I would ever hear during my flight lessons. On November 2, 2012, however, that would be subject to change. This time, I heard an unfamiliar one: sirens. It was faint, almost impossible to hear, but nonetheless it was there. I opened my window, rolled the plane 30°, looked down to see the remains of what was my home, the Jersey Shore, and my heart sank. My grip on the yoke relaxed, and my instructor immediately noticed. Once I heard him say the words, "My plane," I was done flying. The sirens I heard were from the innumerable flashing lights below me. Rubble was now the only tourist attraction, and it stretched for as far as the eye could see. I had only been flying for two months now, and until this point I had taken my flying lessons for granted, originally seeing them only as a fun

Ever since I was old enough to dream, I have imagined myself soaring with the eagles. My love of flying has sculpted the way I live and the person I have become. Two years ago that passion rocketed to new heights when I had the opportunity to visit Embry Riddle Aeronautical University in Arizona. For a whole week I lived in a college dorm, roomed with a total stranger, and - best of all - I flew!

The night before we began our journey to Orlando, I didn’t get much sleep. My eyes were wide open like an owl most of the night, tossing and turning under my cloudy soft comforter thinking about what awaited me the next 24 hours. I have always been interested about what it would be like to go on a roller coaster, but I hated the feeling of weightlessness like a balloon. I even hated going on elevators, just the thought of all that force sent a shivering sensation throughout my body that made me agonizingly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, there was a roaring lion fearlessness within me that wanted to indulge on this endeavor. In the morning we pack the family SUV as if we were sardines in a can and headed out to Islands of Adventure.

Jonathan’s pursuit of the perfect flight took everything from him. He lost his health, his family, his friends, and even his home. Although he struggled at times