Flying to the Airport

I awake with a start to the sudden sounds of Traffic raging outside, almost as if turned on; I could swear there was total silence a moment ago. I hear yelling, I'm dizzy, bleary, and fiery orange light breaks through thin windows, assailing my sleeping eyes. The door slams open and arms grab me. They move me, pushing and shoving, handing me items and yelling instructions. I respond without hearing and I remember nothing of it, just a blur of movement, confusion, and compulsive earnestness. I soon find myself racing out the door by my arm, held in a painful death grip by the father, my stomach aching from eating a partially cooked breakfast so fast it was barley chewed. The taste in my mouth is bitter and acidic, and I'm not even sure of what I ate.

I'm crammed into the back seat of a car far to small for the family I've suddenly joined, my head snaps back as the car snaps forward into a stream of honks, squeals, and yells.

I don't realize the yells are addressed to me until the mans face swivels around, red with anger and again yells "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, WHERE ARE YOU GOING!?"

"THE AIRPORT!" I blurt out, before I even realize what I'm saying. I now nothing about an airport, nor do I know what I would do once there, but it satisfied the man and he makes a sudden right turn, flinging me into his son, sitting next to me. I feel like we are traveling 80 miles an hour, the car emitting a high pitched wine which cuts into me. My eyes start to water.

We slam on the breaks, my head snaps forward as I hit the end of the seat belt (did I put that on?) and doors fly open. I'm grabbed, thrown, "GOOD LUCK FRIEND!," and I'm on pavement as tires squeal away.

There is sudden and surprising silence.