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by Anthony DeCarvalho
Armando watched the red biplane zoom overhead. He had enjoyed watching planes fly for as long as he could remember. When he was a teenager, he would ride to the derelict airport on his bicycle, and pretend he was a pilot. Other times, he would meet his friends, and they would race on the old landing strips. It was tricky, he remembered, because there were so many holes in the asphalt. Ever since the public got scared ... the skies just haven't been the same. Armando remembered hearing about the tight security, back before he was born. His parents had honeymooned in Hawaii, and his mom had been stripped searched twice! They never flew again. Armando never got the chance to fly in one of those jumbo jets. How he longed for the opportunity. Unfortunately, the dream of flying was a sad, distant, past reality. *** That night, Armando rode his mountain bike down to old Miami International. He stopped on Perimeter Road, closed his eyes, and imagined what it must have been like. He heard those mighty 747's, DC-9's, and Airbus's soar overhead. He imagined the lights that drew the planes toward the landing strips. He saw the workers with the batons, guiding the planes to the terminal. And then he was inside one of the plane. People unbuckled their seats, and gathered their carry-on luggage. The flight attendants bid farewell to the passengers. Farewell. Armando opened his eyes, and looked upon the desolation. *** Back home, Armando turned on his radio. There were reports of lawlessness, hunger, and death on National Public Radio. Miami/Dade itself was relatively calm; after all the islanders left and the retirees died, the county was pretty empty. No one came down for vacation anymore -- who had time for vacation? It was a struggle just to find something to eat, and there was barely any food left in Miami -- so no one came. Armando longed for the "good old days", when people dreamed big, took risks, and achieved great things. Armando wished he could muster the strength to start ... something, but he was too tired. The good old days were in the past. The big dreamers were nowhere to be found. Armando didn't know where to begin, so he just stayed where he was at. |