Melissa Garlic I sprint on to the air bridge, frizzy hair, laces undone, coat unbuttoned. I look tragic. Finally I Join the queue. I attempt to make myself look presentable; like that will ever happen. In my attempt to be graceful I try gliding towards the entrance of the plane, no luck. I trip over my laces and smash into the man in front of me. I apologize as he grunts. Crashing into my seat I’m relieved, what else could go wrong? A fragile old man carefully takes his seat beside me. With only a seat between us I wonder if I should make polite yet awkward conversation.

I decide against it. The final passenger roads the plane. He seems 17 or 18, my age, very attractive, tall, loose hazelnut hair, broad shoulders. Silently I pray that he won’t sit next to me; he does. I silently smile and shoot my head down and pretend I’m reading the world’s most fascinating article. After a series of tedious flight instructions the plane is roaring to take off. Within a matter of seconds we’re in the air. My anxiety gets the batter of me as I peer out the window and see how high we are. My hands start to sweat and I’m positive Vive left my stomach back on the ground.

Air pockets start to threaten to send my lunch back up as the plane starts to Jolt left and right. As we reach the designated altitude the plane comes to a peaceful cruise. My nerves are dancing around believing that at any moment in time the plane will come to a spiraling crash. Quickly the flight attendants come round and offer a light snack and beverage. I embrace a glass of ice cold water. My nerves relax as everyone on the plane seems settled, I hunch back into my seat and ask myself what else could go wrong?

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I’m Just beginning to think things are going well; until we start flying over Wellington. I notice that the plane is lightly shaking, nothing to worry about, and within a matter of minutes the plane is bouncing up down and side to side. My palms are sweating, my lunch is definitely going to be making reappearance and my breathing is making me sound slightly hysterical. Mimi k? ” Crap, cute boy to my left has totally noticed my panic attack. Muff, I’m good” I squeak, not daring to make eye contact. Out of the blue the plane drops.

Without thinking I grab cute boys hand and shut my eyes hoping that this is all a bad dream. I open my eyes to see cute boy staring and me like I was two crayons short of a box. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! ” I gush, cherry red with embarrassment Awkwardly he smiles and looks away. Silently I turn away from him, humiliated and hoping that this is the one and only time that I will ever have to see him. The plane starts to steady itself as we come into landing. I can’t wait to get of this plane and never see that boy again.

The plane comes to halt; I spring up and throw my bags over my shoulder waiting to run off the plane as fast as my feet will take me. I manage to worm my way through many of the other passengers and make it to the arrivals lounge. I breathe a breath of relief and tell myself that’s there’s nothing from here on in that could possibly go wrong. I meet up with my mum to get my luggage. In a rush I grab what I assume is my bag and walk off. Big mistake. We’ve Just arrived home, after what seems like hours stuck in Auckland traffic, and my phone is going off.

Apparently Vive accidental grabbed a Mr. Trend Parkers bag. I groan as I think about now long it’s going to take to get the airport and back. Reluctantly mum and I climb back into the car and head towards the airport. Upon arriving we are told to go to the customer information desk. Mum and I drag our tired bodies towards the desk. Then I see him. Cute boy from the plane is standing there, looking extremely annoyed. Fear comes upon me like a crashing wave. I duck so he won’t see me and I run and desperately search for something to hide behind.

My very confused mother walks over to me with a puzzled look on her face. “Don’t even ask mum, Just go give that guy the bag” I say in a hushed tone. Still confused she walks over to the desk and greats cute boy. I panic as I notice they are talking; that can’t be good. Finally mum walks away and we get back to the car. “Andrea, did you know that boy? ” mum questions “No whys that? ” “Well he knew you and asked me to give this to give to you” she says handing over a tiny piece of ripped paper. I open the small note and read it; “call me