The Day Of The Fluorescent Tourist Filled Road

Stepping out of the car I analyzed the environment around me. A gust of fresh air flowed swiftly through my hair and caressed my face. The temperature outside was mildly warm and humid. Rays of sunshine blazed down upon me and begun to heat up my black t-shirt. The black and rough asphalt crumbled beneath my feet as I walked. I could tell that it was recently paved because of how smooth it was when I slid my shoe across it. Sweat collected on both of my palms because of the anxiety I gathered prior to my visit. Everything on my body seemed heavier at the time. The necklace dangling around my neck. My phone and wallet that rested in my pockets. It was the result of all of the built up tension within me. I had no idea what to expect.

I stood in the elevator , knees shaking . When my sister Charity blurted out she lost wifi, I lost it. So, without my phone I was scared hot and couldn’t think. When the elevator doors burst open I was the first person the bolt out the elevator. When I looked over the edge, what I saw was beautiful . The Rockefeller skate center glimmered in the moonlight.

“Whoa, whoa! Where is this taking us, where, where?” I said as my heart was beating as fast as a runner who finished the Boston Marathon. I was hiking with my family a second ago, and now I am through a wavy transparent wall that made me feel like I was heading through Platform 9 ¾ in Harry Potter. I suddenly was flying through a golden sky that glistened like the sun hitting the ocean. Gracefully I did flips and cartwheels in the air while gold ribbon followed me like ducklings following their mother. Milliseconds later I landed in a grassy field. Cows were harvesting crops and cooking dinner. Straw hats aligned their faces, with brown corduroy overalls splattered in dirt. They smelled like a fertilizer company on a hot summer afternoon.

She walks to the centermost oak tree near Mason Hall, she finally has found the perfect shady spot on an 80-degree day. She passes the boy from her Psychology class and gives him a small smile. She’s taking a journey to a jungle she doesn’t normally observe, a place where many humans and animals inhabit. There isn’t a breeze and the air feels drier than usual. The Diag seems unfriendly today, as she sits down she’s nervous of her surroundings. She plants herself on a somewhat clean patch of grass and pulls out her shiny laptop. She is reading “Werner Herzog’s Conquest of the Useless” for her freshman English class. As she dives her way into the reading she starts to think about where she is, what is going on around her, and the journey that she is on. A bushy red squirrel approaches her, she’s confused why it’s coming so close and quickly gets up to escape its presence. “Why in the world is this squirrel so close to me” she thinks to herself. The girl moves from the tree but as she get up she starts to notice specific details she hasn’t before.

The plane steadied as we flew above the clouds. My once jaw dropping view is reduced to a monotonous screen of white like a piece of printer paper. I closed the blinds and was now struck with proliferating boredom. My mind started to wander. When this happens my surrounding becomes distant and I am fully immersed in thought. I imagined landing in sunny San Diego, feeling the sun’s rays warm my body. Eating all the delicious food from the mess hall or buying my favorite ice cream, homemade pistachio almond drizzled with hot fudge and caramel.

The point her and Bill now found themselves was so much worse than where they were just a few short hours ago. She felt the world spinning faster and faster, head over heels, like the earth had come unmarred from its axis. Bill felt numb, yet could still fill some of the excitement, from the start of the journey, ablaze deep inside him. For the first time he thought maybe he should turn back, but the feeling of excitement, exhilaration and euphoria was strong enough still too keep him moving

My knees shivered as I walked up the huge steps onto the bus. Millions of things were running through my mind; I was nervous. There was a loud chatter throughout the bus, but it wasn’t normal chatter. Everyone was on a light edge as we were all more than aware about what we were about to face. The bus pulled up into a familiar area. Elsternwick was busy and the sun was bright. I personally am always in Elsternwick and I never knew the museum was

What laid in my hand was my literal golden ticket to the world. This small, flimsy card could take me anywhere I wished to go to in New York City but I didn’t enjoy this privilege all my life. I grew up in a neighborhood where my family and I didn’t need to travel far for a doctor’s checkup or a grocery run. My whole world consisted of a few streets in Brooklyn. Unfortunately, my parents could neither drive nor afford many rides on our MetroCard. I had seen places like the Empire State Building and Central Park merely in pictures so the inner adventurer in me yearned to see what was outside Brooklyn.

The trip to the hotel room was about an eight-mile journey, which took almost two hours to complete. As I sat on an unfamiliar bus in a strange new city I began to

I spent two years in Maivifolia’s maze. Two years of a constant battle within myself, with forces pushing and pulling me into oblivion. A dog chasing its own tail; my mission to defeat my thoughts was simply impossible.

After departing from the French Quarter, we headed north to Biloxi, Mississippi, east through Mobile, Alabama and out onto Florida’s long, desolate and boring country highway into the panhandle and past Pensacola. On the drive home, I started feeling a lot of nervous anxiety. I was suddenly

lost and disoriented. The maze was serving as a metaphor, in which it represents what is

At last, the bell finally rung, and I was headed home to get my gear. Hastily packing because lessons began at approximately 4:30, with about an hour drive. I hopped in the car next to Carolyn with minimal excitement. My nerves began to set in. I sat back and attempted to relax while we traveled past Delaware onto Earlville. Watching cars and fields pass by aided me to relieve some stress. I quickly forgot where I was going and why. Time flew by in that red Ford Escape. The trip from Manchester to Asbury seemed to only take fifteen minutes instead of forty five. We arrived far too soon, yet we were still late.

Walking along the Florida coastline, I find myself not only travelling across space, but across time. I look down at the dozens of seashells - some small, some large, striped, dotted, blue, pink, grey; these seashells have been around the world. Just like people, these shells started off in one place, familiar and comfortable, and ended up somewhere new, ready for someone to pick them up and appreciate the grooves of the journey. Each seashell has taken a wild journey to get to this coastline, to be at my feet. Each seashell’s journey is unique to itself, just like each person has a unique story to their location on the coastline.

Wondering where I was I tried to remember more like my name or something else important , But nothing came back. Suddenly a cold hand clamped my shoulder and said ¨Follow me.¨ So I Grabbed my backpack and followed the man through twists and turns passing sweating walls which had a thick substance oozing from it to a hut deep in the maze. On the way there the man said he was sorry