Keona Caraballo ’24 - I Don’t Like Beaches or Airplanes

I Don’t Like Beaches or Airplanes

by Keona Caraballo ’24

A perfect day to unwind. The sand was cool under my feet, the sky was covered in a cloudy blanket but still bright, and the ocean was loudly crashing in waves in front of me. I was drifting from one activity to the next to keep my mind occupied. Whether it was walking, reading, swimming, or even people-watching, I was enjoying my time near the beach. I put on some music and closed my eyes. After a while they fluttered back open because I found that my music had grown quieter for whatever reason. I got up and put the volume up louder but once again the music grew quiet. I turned off my speaker altogether in frustration. My frustration turned to curiosity as a rumbling emerged from the new silence and it was coming from all directions. I ventured from underneath my umbrella and tried to find where the rumbling was coming from. I looked up to observe but found nothing because of the thick clouds. Everything else seemed normal in my eyes, at least. Within seconds that changed. The rumbling grew to a deafening roar which caused everyone to wonderingly look around for the source just as I had. The clouds parted and the nose of a plane came barreling through. A broken wing and an engine on fire broke through the clouds next. The plane was attempting to land in the sea but the plane was crashing fast and was headed nose-first into the sand. People and sea birds alike were desperately trying to flee the disaster. Few succeeded. The rest were caught under the flying inferno squawking and screaming until they could no longer plead for help. When the entire plane landed, flames billowed out to lick the bodies of the fleeing people who hadn’t been caught under the plane. Petrified and stuck to the sand in horror, I watched and listened as hundreds of people pounded on their window in their final desperate attempt at survival. It was as rhythmic and chaotic as a drumming circle. Some of the passengers found a tear in the metal bird and streamed out. The sky grew dark as the smoke from inside of the plane fled the scene as well. The smell that settled around the shore was fierce, strong, unique, and bitter. Soon sirens flooded the scene. Good thing somebody called 911 because I was paralyzed so fiercely to my spot that I couldn’t call anyone. The first responders saved those that they could and tended to those in need. The curious wandered to the scene only to be pushed away while others continued to work. I, on the other hand, ran. After my paralyzed body allowed me to move I ran to my car. Then I drove to my house to call my loved ones and tell them that I was alright. I had nightmares for weeks.

I looked up from my cup of coffee at my friend, who had wide eyes, and I said, “ So that’s why I don’t like going on airplanes or to beaches anymore.”

My friend sipped her own coffee and averted her eyes from me, “Wow,” she whispered not knowing what else to say.