My First Helicopter Ride

As I stood gazing at the monstrous contraption, I shivered as though ice had replaced my spine. The cold air that blew into my face engulfed my entire body. The multiple layers of clothing could not protect me against the swish of frosty air.
The walkway leading up to the helipad was newly paved; I could still feel the soles of my shoes sink into the cement just a little as I walked up the path. It’s ironic how my heart did the exact same thing. It now felt like it was forcibly pressing against my lungs as I struggled to breathe; asphyxiated by terror.
Weeds, dandelions and wild flowers were being blown helplessly about by the gargantuan blades. I knew how they felt. I was a small 7 year-old and this helicopter made me feel like a bug on a windscreen, hanging on for dear life. My mother must have been squeezing my hand too hard because I yanked it away from her as the pain finally registered in my central nervous system; I looked down at my hand just in time to see the blood rush back down my veins. Red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the entrance to the show grounds; the place where I was going to have one of the most memorable experiences of my life. The moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the surrounding landscape, and the screeching of nearby cars pulling away to the highway made me realize how alone our family was; after all, we were the last people to go in the helicopter that day. The big metal structure shone a bright white under the moonlight, and the splotches of rusted metal hinted at the machines maturity, which wasn’t comforting at all. The spinning of the blades was deafening as we hurried towards the little “hobbit” door to enter the craft. The first thing I felt when I was hauled up into the craft was the constriction of my pupils, and then my eyelids wired shut. It was very bright in there. As soon as I regained visibility, I looked around and saw all these lights that were sourced by many buttons, switches and levers. The dashboard