A Journey back
home
As I arrive at the chaotic Terminal B, Budapest airport, before beginning
my journey that would take me home after eight years. I look around one last
time at the industrial silhouettes exhaling, toxic dark smoke into the once
calm, and clear sky. In the distance the
huge, graded mountains could be seen, they were slowly turning an orange brown
colour but patches of green could be seen. Today was the day I would go
home. Eight years I haven’t been back,
eight years I have died to hear the thick homely mancuinian accent flow through
my delicate ears again, eight years since I saw my family last, only vague
memories of faces filled my head with no name to go with.
Picking up my bolder of a suitcase I struggled to get into the
terminal, hundreds of people were shoving past to get into the last minute of
check in, a little girl wondered off trying to look at little trinkets that
were being sold at the entrance. The smells of body odours were strong a
certain mans was worse, like fermented cheese, I screw up my face like a piece
of paper while wafting my hand around my nostrils, that were trying to shut
down, hoping that I was not too obvious. Taking a deep breath I get ready to
check in, the sounds of a plane taking off silenced the airport the whooshing
and whizzing of the engine was loud deafening my ears even though it was around
the back of the terminal, the sound makes my body tingle with excitement I
would be home in 4 hours!
The crisp, Autumnal air hit me as I stepped out onto the tarmac, my
breath forming a cloud as I exhale while shaking from the cold weather of Budapest,
which would last for months. The cheap aluminium aeroplane steps juddered
suddenly as I clambered up them with a sea of people following behind
impatiently, the handrail covered with frost, making my hand jump from the
shock of the temperature as my fingers slowly grew icicles at the tips. As I
approached the doors leading inside fake smiles from the airhostesses greeted
me, their shark like eyes silently judging me and the hundreds of arriving
passengers. I reached my seat, 12J , and threw myself onto the scratchy, broken
cheap airline chair that made my back soar, “this is going to be the longest
and most uncomfortable flight ever” I mumble.
As minutes that felt like hours passed and we still hadn’t taken off, I
started to get irritated and fidgety, making do with the horrendous chair and
being happy that I won’t be on this cheap plane that I will never be a passenger
on again, in 3 hours I would be home.
The thought of home relaxed me, placing my hands on the sides of the crammed
packed chair a soft, sticky, squidgy texture met with my slowly warming fingers
making me scream with disgust, the gum looked so old with like bits of fluff
and air stuck to it not to mention the mould growing on it. I feel my face burn
up from embarrassment as all the passengers turn around (making their eyebrows
slope). Ping. An announcement was made
by the captain “get ready for takeoff”, loud cheers filled the plane as
everyone were going to their final destination Manchester Airport.
A few hours into the flight and the smells of the plane started to aggravate
me. The restless toddler in the seat in front of me, playing with play dough
mingled through my nose with the scent of lavender, the elderly woman next to
me’s perfume, and the scent of food from Hungry passengers filling themselves.
Turning my head to look out of the thin plastic window, the view was
spectacular, the dark orange sun set under the cotton candy clouds making them
turn a pinkie colour. The clouds were so thin and delicate when the wings hit
them they would instantly disappear, leaving a gap of dark blue sky colour
seeping through. Shades of green and yellow land looked like patch works from
high up in the sky, each a different colour, each bordered with bushes. I
wonder what crops were growing there in spring (memories of running through hay
field with my cousin flashed back to me). Without warning the plane began to
vibrate and you could hear the roaring of the engines changing speed and gear,
wheels emerging beneath the aircraft, the wings contracting noisily against the
strong wind. My stomach clenched as I realised what was happening, the plane
was preparing for landing. Gripping onto the arm rests, white knuckled, a
single though appeared to me. I was finally home.
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