Personal Narrative: White Beach Flyings

Sand in my feet and White Herons croaking, and making nasal squeals by the ocean line, and the smell of sancocho a liquid light brown colored soup with meat and corn filled my nose from a nearby restaurant overlooking the beach. It Felt like home. I noticed bright blue,red, and white parachutes laying on the white beach sand waiting to be floating above the tourist from all over the world and hotels. The tall,skinny, dark skin owner with a bald head had big white signs with bright pink coloring that read “$10 FOR 30 MINUTES”. My mother warned me in advance that she never wanted to see me flying 100 feet above her head, but I lived for thrill.

As I pulled my cousin Yulissa’s arm excitingly by her arms towards the parachutes through the tough, thick sand convincing her to go on with me, she agreed with a nervous anxious look on her face as if she would regret it. We get the to the bright signs and sign our life away on a ten page waiver form written in
The hot sun on my face while flying smoothly felt like we I wasn’t moving until I see people running from the waves crashing on the beach. The sky looked foggy as if a storm was approaching. And approaching it was. The guard on the pale sand blows his whistle full force, waving his hands side to side so fast it looks like his arms are about to fall signing that it is time to pull the thick string all the way down as much as we could to start floating towards the pale hot sand. Pulling the thick string was not a one person job, so I helped Yulissa by grabbing on to the black string and pulling with all the force a 100 pound girl could give until a strong deadly hurricane like breeze pushed us far from the beach and twirling into the foggy sky where the clear, salty blue ocean was with no idea where we were going to land. Our faces full of tears and regret screaming for help as if anyone had the power in their hands to help us out of our deadly