Personal Narrative: A Night At The Subway

When you parents tell you not to do something do you just do it anyways. Well I do and this time I think I learnt my lesson. It all started on a normal Saturday and we were gonna go on a hike, but none of us wanted to go somewhere so we just did it at home. We got our bags and water ready and busted for the trail. I thought it was gonna be a normal day and we would all have fun, but I got proved wrong. The trail itself is about three miles and a couple of extra steps,but with the surprise we only walked a mile of it.

Moving, for many people, can be a difficult process. A lot of the time kids have to switch schools and deal with the challenge of making new friends and getting used to everything new. Since my parents divorced when I was five years old, I can remember living in many different homes. My mother would rent out a place, live there for a few months, then meet a new guy and move on. For years, I hoped to myself that my mom and dad would get back together, like Nick and Elizabeth Parker from “The Parent Trap.” I knew, however, deep down that such a thing just couldn’t happen. My four siblings and I were dragged along, forced to go with the flow and adapt as quickly as possible. Up till she married her second husband, Tony. As young as I was,

After looking back on the success we had from creating Coachella, Rick and I decided to try to replicate it this summer in New York City. When we visited, we noticed that the street musicians in the city are extremely talented, and we feel that they are immensely overlooked und underappreciated. We want to incorporate the talent in the city in our music festival. We scouted out countless probable locations where we could hold the festival, but the top two came out to be the Brooklyn Bridge and the New York Subway. We need to make our decision soon about which location to hold the event because summer is coming up quickly. We have lots of work to do!

My friend Clayton and I went to my aunts Linda’s house. Her and her husband George told me I could ride their golf cart. My uncle then told me how the controls worked. Then he drove with me to see if understood what the controls were. Afterwards, I rode around with Clayton having fun until he said, “I have to use the restroom.”

In the story “ On the Subway” two different races are brought up as different worlds. The author uses tone, imagery imagery and organization of the poem to develop and convey the different sides.

It was the first time I was going to drive. My dad stopped on the gravel and said,”Drive to the house.” I hopped into the driver's seat and tried moving the gear shift. “Um, dad it's not moving,” I said. He responded with,”Son you have to put your foot on the break to move the gear shift.” I set my foot on the break the threw the gear shift into drive. I stepped on the gas pedal and the car took off. The whole way to the house it was like a stop and go sort of thing. I was really scared to hit the gas pedal because I was afraid it was going to go way too fast. Also, The car was so touchy! Every time I would give it a little gas the car would rev up its engine. As the car went down the hill I had my foot on break the whole time. Every time I

Write a narrative about 3 people who are on a road trip only to stop off at a gas station and pick up a fourth whom they don't know

Have you ever noticed how some cars seem to be smiling when you pass them on the road? From around age 7, I always told my mother that cars made by Mazda appeared to be smiling at me! Years later, to my surprise, my mother had purchased a 2011 Mazda 3 for my sixteenth birthday. Shortly after, I pointed out the smiling face that I had always noticed as a child. She finally agreed with me that the car appeared to be smiling due to its oddly shaped grille cover. The human-like faces it makes is not the unique characteristics of my car; it has a unique interior layout, an oddly shaped stain, and a dent in the back bumper from an unforgettable day!

My road starts in Iraq, where I started playing soccer. Soccer has and still is, a big part of my life. I started it after my uncle died. He loved soccer and was the best uncle ever. My father did soccer and so is my brother at FFC. 2 years in soccer at a game is where I first broke a bone, my right leg. I threw up and then fainted. I spend about a week in the hospital. My road keeps moving to Jordan, more specifically in Amman. I have stopped playing soccer after I broke my leg. So I got into karate. I began karate about the 2nd month living in Jordan. I picked it up very quickly.I earned my black belt. One tragic day at a competition, the same leg broke again.

The gps says “ arrived “ and we are ready for the turn up. As we are looking for a place to park we come to conclusion that there are not any because there were so many cars. There are cars that are beaten up badly. Some cars have no hoods , some cars rear-view mirror are hanging as if someone just drove by and took it off. Finally I spot the perfect place to park and I hear a deep voice yell at me and say “ You might want to park on up the curbs some more because these people around here can’t drive .” I look up and see it was tall lady directing me and thought it was hilarious but I still took her advice. My girls and I hop out the car and head walking down to the event. There was extremly loud music that you could hear even if you were

Experiencing this roller coaster ride with y It has been a light and dark situation but all in all a very good learning experience for the both of us in learning one’s self. At the end of the day what is truth is the love that we share together and bringing us out of the darkness and into the light it has been a very trying situation sometimes I wondered if we would ever come out of this darkness. But then the light comes on and we understand why we go through what we go through together. We feel a sigh of relief with understanding. As for giving me that disconnection because without it I wouldn’t be saying this on paper. So here I am preparing myself for what I do best with the help and love from Larry.

The narrative voice suggests that their mirth derives in part from their freedom to transgress differences such as those between the segregated communities that characterize much of the city. The protagonists’ hope is infectious, but the narrative voice, reflecting on the thoughts of other passengers in the subway, remains aware of the risks of their self-proclaimed freedom, casting doubts on their futures. Their laughter leads to jealousy in the other passengers as they think back to their own youths and the privileges they have lacked. The narrator imagines another rider thinking of these characters as "free loaders" (4); this rider is reassured by thinking that "life will get them hard some time" (4). Such doubts resurface continually in

“Dad, I can’t talk, I'm heading out right now,” I said while hugging the phone with my shoulder up to my ear. He told me to be cautious on the roads, considering the blizzard we had just had a few days ago. It was an unusually calm day in the suburbs of Chicago, Illinois. A perfect day to travel, the snow on the ground glistened as it had just been freshened with a new coat from the light snowfall early this morning. The sun was barely noticeable from the distance as the tip of it lit up the outline of city. It gave the trees a soft glow making it look like there were thousands of microscopic diamonds floating off the branches of the bare trees through the breeze, carrying them across the neighborhood and greeting themselves at the window

One day, I was coming home from a movie in the city and I had just gotten on my normal Cleveland Avenue bus. It was December 1, 1950 and I had been riding the bus for about five minutes. Since I was a white man, I always sat in the front of the bus. We were about to make our next stop and before we stopped I noticed a few black women about to get on. When she got on the bus and walked pass me, I looked at her and could tell that she was not an old women. She was in her mid forties and looked very healthy and well. I continued to watch her. I didn't know what it was about her but she really inspired me and seemed different from anyone else I had ever seen before. She sat down in the first “Black” section of the bus, and then we started to move

When I sprinted to our queen , sweat droplets poured down my face like the Niagra falls. Every step I took was like being shot with a bullet each time. Dirt and grime covered my body with huge swollen, bloody bruises burning my body. Although pure exhaustion and desperation took a toll over me, I could not give up or our entire civilization will be destroyed in a few hours. A dark soft blanket floated on top of the quiet underground tunnel so no illumination can be affected where our base is hidden . In this tunnel was where billions of the buggers roamed lined up single file carrying out duties to fulfill the queen’s commands. In the center of the tunnel lies a huge throne made of rocks and sediments carved into a throne for the queen to rest and order her