The buckle was hard to click so my big sister always had to help me. I was barefoot so I could feel the thick, course fabrics of the carpet on the floor. Squishing my toes into the fabric, the butterflies in my stomach slowly went away. I could feel the plane going down the runway, gaining speed. I stretched out of my seat to lookout of the small window that was only big enough for me to crawl through if we would ever crash land. Above the window was the small air port hole with the coolest looking knob. “Only turn the knob if you’re dying” is what my grandpa would always say to us. The knob had jagged edges and the overall shape was a star. It was so tempting to turn it, but I knew …show more content…
The cushions were all sunk in from the hundreds of butts that had been in them. The head rest was very worn in and the once dark tan seat cover was now very faded and the fabric was matted down. In the center of the matted down fabric was my grandpas initials “JB”. Every time we flew, I had to trace the hard stitching with my fingers for good luck. When we got up into the air at a good altitude, I would have my sister unbuckle me so I could join my grandparents up front. Passing my sisters in the middle row was easy for me because I was so small. The space between the seat to get to each row was very small. Since my older sister was built like a large man, she could not fit anywhere but the middle row. The planes only two doors were located on the left side, one for the pilot, one for the passengers in the back. The pilot's door had to be opened first in order to open the back door. My sister was always the last one in behind my grandpa because of her size.The doors were a light brown leather with the bottom half covered in the same carpet on the