First time

    

He had never been anywhere outside of the town he grew up in. Now at eighty-seven years old, he boarded his first plane ride. Never did like the idea of leaving the safety of his farm especially to be hurled through space in a tin  can. The lovely lady at the gate asked him if he needed assistance boarding which he replied he did not. He found his seat among the other travelers most of whom looked at ease with their surroundings. He thought he was going to throw up when he heard the doors close and the whine of the jet engines making his ears ring and his mouth become as dry as a summer day in the fields. He had a window seat but didn’t look out as surely some creature from a Hitchcock movie was standing on the wing looking at him. Barreling down the runway, he prayed like never before and when the landing gear closed and locked he let out a faint  scream that he hoped wasn’t heard. Once they were up and heading for Atlanta, he wished he had packed a flask of whiskey to help calm his nerves, but as luck would have it, a nice lady pushing a cart filled with  all kinds of drinks took his order for a whiskey straight up. She smiled handing him a tiny bottle of booze and a glass which he declined, opening the little bottle and swallowing it in one gulp. The landing wasn't as bad as the take off I suppose because he had two more of those tiny bottles before the landing gear came down and locked with a thud. The crew thanked everybody as they got off the plane and he returned the gesture with a country smile and a tip of his hat. His daughter was waiting for him, and his heart skipped a beat upon seeing her. It had been too long, and family was important but more important, he realized there was more to his life than the farm and who would have ever thought a person could buy tiny bottles of whiskey two of which were buried in his jacket pocket

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