Snow Vacative Personal Narrative

I am your pilot this morning, and I will be taking you to Newark, New Jersey. The flight will be about three hours. Sit back, relax and have a good flight. I looked to my left to see my parents on their phones, not paying attention to any of their surroundings. There was a long line of people in the aisle waiting to take their seats, each person pushing large suitcases. In the row across for us, Jack was sitting in the row seat listening to music. Since there was four of us Jack had to sit by himself with two other strangers but he didn’t mind. The engines suddenly started to roar as I started to get pushed gently back into my seat. The front of the plane started to rise from the ground and as soon as I noticed we were up in the air. I took a deep breathe as I took my backpack out under the seat. I grabbed my new book “Looking for Alaska” and began to read. One of my friends gave it to me as a going away gift because she knew I loved to read. After a while, my mind slowly started to drift off onto a whole different planet. I was still in shock that I just left all my friends and I was moving to New Jersey. The whole situation was not processing through my head and I thought that we were just going on vacation to New Jersey, and we were not actually about to live there. Even thinking about having to make new friends and joining a new soccer team sent chills down my body. I am always shy around new people and now I have to break out of my

f. Transition: The other two planes which were intended for a crash landing were not bound for New York. One successfully reached its target, while another was stopped in its tracks.

At home mom was anxiously looking out because she was worried about this storm. There were mountains of snow. Finally the snow stopped and the snow shoveling machines did their job.

Nothing brings me more joy in my life when I look out the airplane window as the plane flies over the Yukon Mountain ranges. At this part knowing that I am getting closer by the second. When I finally look out the window, and see Anchorage, Alaska as we descend I see the surroundings of all the mountains and all the greenery and I start to feel alive again. I feel myself shedding all my issues of my life like a snake shedding its skin and leaving it all behind. I get off the airplane and sense of relaxation and comfort comes over me, a feeling of home. I have a seven-minute walk to the stairs to get to the baggage claim and then finally see my best friend that I have not seen in 115 days. As I am walking it feels like a dream; it does not feel like I am in Alaska and I have to keep pinching myself to make sure I am awake. I arrive at the stairs and start the walk down the granite looking stairs and head to the baggage claim. I look for my best friend Steve we finally find each other and reunite. Another wave of comfort and happiness

I got out of the car and I saw trees covered in white snow. When I smelled out of the car it was cold. It was like christmas, just that there were no decorations. It looked awesome and fun. The mountains were big and snowy. I Saw a rabbit and sled racer .I heard snow fall and it was loud. I heard wolves howling. I touched snow and it felt like ice. I tasted the snow and it was

One morning, I woke up in my room, and pulled up the shades to see the ground covered in several blankets of snow from a snowstorm. I went downstairs, and made my breakfast, a typical bowl of cereal with orange juice and some toast. Before the meal, the length of this storm was my particular interest at the moment, so I looked up the weather. The outlook did not look too convincing to me, so I continued to eat my breakfast that seemingly felt like forever, due to my desire in the length of the storm. I consumed the last bits of toast that were left, and looked outside once again only to see what I saw the first time, thick layers of snow.

Snow. It's one of those perils that every trucker finds him or herself in from time to time. It really isn't the end of the world unless of course one happens to be in an area where people aren't accustomed to it. Luckily for me, I was in Portland. Oh, sure. Every town has their idiots who can't drive on dry road, let alone slick ones. But for the most part, Portland Oregon isn't a bad place to drive through during a snow storm.

In Binghamton, New York a Mother and five children. Who have never had a snowstorm resulting in more than a couple of inches of snow, that only last a couple of hours they got a snow storm first cancelling school for two days, then again cancelling school. However, the mother was not used to having the kid’s home all the time. She has her own life she was leading when the kids were away. After the fifth day of not having school the mother snapped, telling her kids to “Get the hell out of my house!” (Faigley 72) The kids refused as it was their home also, but the mother pushed them out of the home leaving them in the harsh cold of the newly landed snow. At first, the kids went ahead and went where all the other kids were to play, but after a while, the kids headed home to find the house was still locked, they knocked but got no answer. They went to the window to see their mother drinking, and watching T.V. She usually did not start drinking until after five, however over the past couple of days she was making an exception. She acted as if drinking after a cup of coffee did not count as drinking. The kids yelled, “Open the door. It is us! ” (Faigley 72) without even looking at her kids through the window, she poured herself another glass of wine. Gretchen Suggested that they call their father, who himself goes to work to get away from their mother. The kids did not even know his number; let alone what he could do to help them anyway. Between their mother's mood and the

It was a cold day, so cold that your arms start to sting as if a needle is impaling the surface of your skin. The wind applies a force which feels as if your face is oozing with thick crimson red blood. The gray puffy clouds covered the sky and dropped small snowflakes onto the road’s surface. A man stood there, freezing, clearing the coat of thick white snow from the concrete road. His nose runs with a river of snot that floods out when the cold wind strikes. His sense of smell is heavily clogged by the slimy snot, but he can still smell the scent of the steamy hot chocolate which sits on the top of his snow covered car. His feet start to numb because of the cold flood which soaks through his boots to his white, silky socks. His feet feel as if he stepped into the freezing cold ocean. As if he fell through ice and he was stuck standing there. The vast pile of the ice white snow feels almost like a quicksand around his black rubber boot. Foggy figures of people shovel the big piles of snow off the sidewalks. They scrape and pick at the glossy white ice which sticks to the sidewalk like a little boy clinging to his mother's side. His feet still sting as if he was stepping on pins and needles. His hands are damp with sweat from grasping the curved metal shaft attached to a socket which holds the blade. The blade cuts holes into the thick powdered snow which is removed from the endless pile. The jet black shovel is filled with slushy snow and crystal shards of ice. The end of

On a snowy and windy night, I was at Barnes & Noble in Green Bay with my friends, Alan and Karina. Christmas music played overhead, the smell of hot chocolate and freshly brewed coffee wafted over, the customers were kind and cheerful, and snow was beginning to blanket the parking lot outside. We were sitting near the cafe wrapping books to support their mom’s school fundraiser. I stared outside and remembered my mom’s warning of the large snowfall that was almost upon us. Around 7:15, the snowflakes were becoming larger and we could barely see outside the window.

At 5:30pm on February 15, 1995, 200 feet off the ground, Professor Roger McPherson gazed anxiously through the fog as his airplane moved to touch down at Hartsfield Airport in Atlanta, more than 1 hour and 15 minutes late. He had 30 minutes to catch his

When I was 11 years old the most traumatic things in my life happened to me. It was the year of ‘The Big Snow’ and just like every other kid on our street we were going to go to the biggest, baddest hill to sled. The hill was at my friend’s house and my brothers and I always go there to go sledding. However, this time things took a turn for the worst and let’s just say a couple stitches, a new tooth, and some glue to heal my skull I learned to never show off bluntly again.

I dismissed this news right away because, as anyone who’s lived in the Lowcountry for a long amount of time can attest, there’s always a teaser of snow in the forecast. It rarely delivers. But as I rode my bike to the beach that day, I was whipped by a frigid wind and 35 degree temperatures under an ominous sky, and I began to believe in the possibility of some flakes because it was freaking freezing.

As we were boarding the plane my brother, Lowden and I were in awe of what we saw. There was a tunnel leading to the plane with little windows you could look outside with. It was a rainy day outside, and with little drops of water just enough to make you cool. We got inside the plane with flight attendants greeting us by putting flowers in our hair. Our seat was close to the front and near the window. Lowden and I sat down

The plane landed, making all the passengers giddy and excited. The rain pouring down went against all the good moods. Beverly had told me that she and her mother would be waiting for me at the airport, ready to take me to my new home. As I waited for my two bags to come around on the belt, I