My family and I had planned a trip from our farm in Alert Alabama to Chicago Illinois for the weekend. We lead very simple lives, just the four of us, the Tuckers. I’m Andy Joe Tucker and I’m 18 years old. Life in Alabama is extremely dull, let me tell you. Our idea of excitement is throwing knives at pigs in our backyard pen. We thought it would be nice to let the fast-paced atmosphere of Chicago entertain us for a weekend since it’s hard to keep ourselves entertained all the time. We absolutely love Chicago and visit once a year. On that sunny Friday morning in July, our new airplane took off smoothly. The air was fresh and the sun was bright until everything changed in an instant when the plane crashed and burned on the streets of Chicago.
While we were in the air, the sky felt heavenly. It was like gliding across the sky with god. However, the captain interrupts through the intercom to announce that we are approaching Chicago, but there appears to be an issue.
The speaker announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing difficulty in contacting the Airport below. Please remain calm as we wait for a signal indicating it is safe to land.” The city below is covered in a thick and revolting layer of dirt and grime. It appears like a pile of hay swirling around there below. I cannot see the ground at all. The dirt looks extraordinary and almost magical. The plane continues to circle the city, but we still haven’t received any radio response from the airport. Twenty minutes pass. Suddenly, my chair becomes extremely hot, causing me to scream. I notice that everyone else in the cabin is experiencing the same issue. As I look down to unfasten my seatbelt and get out of my seat, I realize the buckle is missing. Only the strap remains. I am trapped. In the midst of this agonizing situation with my seat and the cries of my fellow passengers, the nose of the plane lifts up to face the sky.
