flying lesson

The flying lesson White as a shroud, the virtual paper in front of me I wanted to record my first flight in a Dakota plane  Inside, the aircraft looked like a bus, reaching under my seat for the parachute, the steward said there wasn't, but he handed me boiled sweets which I didn't eat in case it was a drug keeping us  asleep, that made sense since many were drunk Turbulence, like driving on a badly maintained  country road, I threw up in a paper bag  The plane landed in Sweden, and the flight had taken less than an hour Nonchalant, I walked across the grey tarmac, gave my passport to an official who stamped it here comes a seasoned traveler