The roar of the DC-10 jet was loud as it prepared to touch down.

The flight was a long and restless one.

The captain informed them they were on the final approach to Boston, which relieved the man.

He took off his headphones, which was playing Eminem’s “Without Me.”

'Must be my cousin’s influence of rap music still rubbing off on me,' the man thought to himself as mountains came into view from his window seat.

He hated flying with a passion. He hoped that this would be the last flight he would ever have to take in his life.

If a stranger asked him what made him hate flying so much, he wouldn't tell them that he had been in a horrible plane accident before. Rather, he would just tell them it was a normal fear among Americans. After all, sometimes the truth is better left hidden in the dark recesses of your mind, where it belongs.

"I hope you enjoyed your flight sir," the pretty young stewardess said to him with a wink and a smile.

The man just smiled back and told her he had a terrific time.

Girls. Now there was something he definitely had no time for, and didn't want to make time for, either.

The plane was now descending to touch down on the runway, and the man buckled his seat belt as the small red seatbelt light lit up on the panel above him.

He felt the pressure on his ears build up, and then the landing gear squealed its tires as the plane finally landed.

It slowed to a halt, and the long 10-hour flight was finally over. The captain said something about how beautiful the weather here in Boston was on this fine morning.

He didn't hear the rest. He knew Boston well enough that the sun shined in the summer and the snow fell in the winter.

He grabbed his red Boston U. carry-on bag, with the number 35 etched in white, from the overhead compartment and made his way out of the plane into the airport.

He looked around at the people, and felt a good sense of being home.

He claimed his baggage and quickly walked outside to get some fresh air.

He was back in the states, but he wasn't home yet.

In fact, he wasn't too sure he wanted to be home at all, but he knew what he had to do.

He whistled for a taxi and told the driver his destination.

The driver just grunted and took off.

Kevin Staley was finally going home.


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