FLIGHTS
Preface: Airplanes
There's something about being ten thousand feet in the air that feels safe.
Others would beg to differ, saying that being trapped inside a plane accelerating hundreds of miles per hour is utterly terrifying. Knowing that any second you could plunge to your death doesn't sound like the most comforting way to go.
But there's something about being in the air, away from everything below, that makes me feel safe.
A hand touches my shoulder, pulling my gaze away from the window.
"We'll be landing in a moment, sir."
I nod, taking out one of my headphones to hear her better. "Thanks."
The flight attendant nods with a pleasant smile, turning away and walking down the aisle to the back of the plane.
Sticking the headphone back into my ear, the melancholy voice of my mate, Matt Healy, flows through my eardrum. The rhythm of the song matches that of my heartbeat as the lights of Los Angeles become more clear underneath the clouds.
There's something about this manic city that pulls me in. From the top fashion designers shops that line the streets to the hidden pubs tucked away in run down buildings - it's a convergence between classy and classical. It's the perfect place to discover new dreams and for old dreams to die.
The plane lands before I know it, the wheels screeching against the runway as they come to a halt. Coming to a stop, I unbuckle my belt and grab the bag on the seat next to me. Standing up, an immediate ache rushes down to my toes.
That's what a six hour flight will do to you, Harry.
Chuckling to myself, I sling the bag over my shoulder and start towards the front of the plane.
"Thanks for a safe flight, Ron," I acknowledge the pilot, shaking his hand.
"Anytime." He sends me a smile while grasping onto my hand. "How long will you be here this time?"
Dropping his hand, I furrow my eyebrows, unsure of the answer myself. How long was I planning on staying here this time?
Noticing my silence, he speaks up. "Well, whenever you need me I'll be here to take you back to London."
Sending him an appreciative grin, I nod and begin to walk down the jet's narrow steps. Their steepness mixed with the nearby cameras flashing nearly causes me to trip halfway down. Luckily, the paps won't have a story tonight.
Security immediately latch onto my sides as I continue to walk and I'm grateful for their presence once we arrive into the main entrance of the airport. Fans line both sides of the doors, jam-packed together and holding their phones ready in their hands with the camera brought up.
The noise level is a little deafening at first but slowly my sense adapt the more that I walk.
"Harry, could you say hi to my friend for me?"
"Harry, can I get a picture with you?"
"Harry! Over here!"
"Is it true that you're here because of a girlfriend?"
Keeping my hand wrapped tight around my bag, I continue to walk with my head down and eyes situated on the tiled floor. The fans follow close on my heels, tugging at the back of my shirt occasionally as I enter into the car waiting for me. Security pushes me forward and squeeze in the back with me.
"Marriott Hotel," one of the guards tells the driver and we speed away from the curb and into the city of dreams.
