Tess Nelligan

September 9, 2015
Writing and Rhetoric
Blood, Whiskey, and Tears
We are moving to Singapore at the end of the summer, my Dad
said to me, just as nonchalantly as if he had told me to do my chores.
Immediately, a bunch of different emotions coursed through my body,
but for the most part, I was angry and confused. At the time, my dad
and I were sitting in his car on the way to my summer league
basketball game, not exactly the ideal place to break this news to
anyone. Shouting and tears ensued, followed by a short period of
denial, and finally the whole scenario ended with sigh of resignation.
My reaction to the news stemmed from the fact that I would be
spending the next four years of high school halfway across the world in
Singapore, instead of in my home in LaGrange Park, Illinois, the place
where I had lived my entire life. Luckily for my basketball team, I
decided to take this newfound anger out on the court, instead of my on
dads face. That basketball game was easily the best game of my life.
Fast forward a couple of weeks, summer was over and my family
and I were about to leave for the airport in order to travel to Singapore.
As I stepped into the black Acura that was taking us to the airport, I
waved goodbye to everything I loved and mentally prepared myself for
the eighteen-hour flight ahead of me. Considering that the longest
flight I had taken before this monstrous one was two hours long, it was
safe to say I felt super prepared for what was to come. When I first
stepped foot on the Boeing 777 I took a moment to admire what my
surroundings would be for the next eighteen hours. Upon entering the
plane, I was momentarily blinded by the bright blue patterned seat
cushions and the fluorescent lighting. Once my eyes adjusted to the
tackiness, I decided to take my seat. As almost everyone knows, the
middle seat in an airplane is the one most desired. That is why I felt
like the luckiest girl in the world when I ended up being seated
between a rude middle-aged man and my obnoxious older brother,
Liam, on this eighteen-hour joyride. After getting as comfortable as
possible in the cramped quarters known as my economy seat, I
decided to take out my laptop to watch a movie. That was my biggest
mistake. Me, being the klutz that I am, dropped my computer face first
onto the tray built into the seat and watched as my computer screen
shattered. As tears rained down my cheeks, Liam could not resist the
temptation to say nice going, idiot, as well as throw in a derisive
laugh to boot. On the bright side, my tears stopped soon after when I
looked up to discover all of my fellow passengers glaring at me. With
no computer and no books and now no chance of making friends on
the plane, I decided the next best thing to do was sleep, so I did.

A couple of hours later, I awoke to the feeling of something being

spilled on my leg; this feeling was due to the person formerly known to
me as the rude middle-aged man and now renamed drunk guy.
Drunk guy had accidentally spilled his entire airplane sized bottle of
whiskey on my leg. Thankfully, he was already half finished with it so
the stain it left on my new pair of white pants was only slightly
noticeable. This second incident also caused my brother to pull out
another smartass remark and chuckle at my bad luck; however, I was
not going to let this whiskey damper my mood! There was still four
hours left to go on this flight and I was pretty sure nothing else could
go wrong. Oh, how nave I was!
With only an hour left on the plane, I was finally in the home
stretch. Just as I started to imagine what it would be like to eat
palatable food and occupy an area bigger than 10 centimeters, my
nose started to bleed. At first the blood came out at a slow trickle, but
then it suddenly started to gush out. A flight attendant rushed down
the aisle to assist, but it was too late; the blood had already spread all
over my shirt. By the time the whole mess was resolved, I looked like a
character out of one of the Saw movies. Shortly after my nose stopped
bleeding, it was finally time to exit the plane. As I walked off the plane
covered in whiskey and blood, carrying my broken laptop, I knew one
thing for sure: I had a pretty funny story to tell on my first day of
school in Singapore.