Blogtember 4: A story about a time you were very afraid.
When I read this prompt, two memories immediately came to mind, and funny enough both took place in Australia. The first when we went to wildlife park and my dad and I found ourselves surrounded by a pack of emus with pellet food in our hands. How we escaped getting pecked to death I still can’t figure out. The second on a flight from Adelaide to Cairns when our plane suddenly and drastically dropped in altitude, and the ever-calm, encouraging friend next to me (that’s you Judy!) let out a scream not even a horror movie could compete with. We were plunging and it felt as if the wings went perpendicular. I knew it was over. The pilot steadied us but there seemed to be very little talking for the remainder of the flight. I sat with my knees against my chest and let out a hallelujah upon landing. The thought of flying home to the U.S. a few days later was terrifying. But the kind of terror in which all you can do is laugh. Thank goodness I had Stacia next to me in coach, you know, since my parents had thrown us back there while they wined and dined in business class. I used to like a little turbulence. I thought it added excitement to a potentially boring ride, but I now grip the armrest with the strength of Goliath at even the slightest bump. And with that boring story, I’m caught up and going to bed!