The Wrath of Flight

This blog article is by my son Sumer Aboumrad Ajam, 14 years old. I publish unedited.

Shortly after the end of my endless battle with my school’s final examination,   my brother, mother and I left Lebanon for the summer. We were spending our summer in the humid city: Houston, Texas. When I found out about the summer plan, a striking bullet of joy hit me in a split of a second; therefore, increasing my hopes for the coming summer.

It was early in the morning – around 4:00 a.m. – and the village was as dark as a world without a sun. It took us a few minutes to turn the street light on from the generator. Once doing so we waited downstairs, with our bags, for the taxi to come pick us up. The mixture of the joy and exhaustion I fault made the wait feel eternal; like falling into an endless void, just drifting on and on. This void was different, it came to an end. We stacked up our bags in the taxi’s trunk resembling the slaves of Egypt stacking the enormous stone blocks on top one another. We gave our dad hugs and kisses and then left to the airport in the taxi. The ride was long, first passing through the quiet village – which felt like a ghost town – then we entered the city of Jounie. The lights of the city woke me up from my slumber, I felt like the Giant and the beanstalk – annoyed. I felt like I needed that sleep since I am never able to rest on the plane.

After 30 more minutes in the taxi, we reached the airport and took our luggage into the airport after paying the driver. The airport wasn’t as calm as I hoped it would be, we passed through countless check-ups. There is no possible way I could explain how exhausting it felt to keep taking out all my equipment from my bag. The only thing more exhausting was the liability of having my little brother. He would always stand in the way doing nothing. Once you tell him to move aside constantly he acts like he is the victim of the weight of the bags I am carrying. Eventually we reached the ticket counter. We weighed 3 of the bags, and then sent them off in the plane’s cargo. Thankfully all 3 bags were under the weight limit. We then left for the gate and waited for an hour or so.

The plane ride was long and annoying; everything is so close together – like a prison cell. I was lucky in the seat I was placed ‘cause of the two ladies that sat next to me. They always offered me some snacks, and after every meal they gave me a piece of gum. Which helped a lot since the after taste of the food wasn’t very pleasant. As usual I wasn’t able to sleep so I stuck to my usual routine of catching up on any film that I missed out over the years. To put my finger on a word that would define my flight it would be, sequestered. We finally landed in Houston; the burst of euphoria that stuck me is unimaginable. I was glad I was able to come home and rejuvenate.


About Mounir Ajam

Mounir Ajam is eager to awaken the giant of project management within individuals, organizations, and nations! He is an experienced executives with global experience working on projects from the United States to Japan and in between. He has been privileged to work on multiple small projects and mega projects. Mounir is an author, volunteer leader, speaker, consultant, executive coach, and entrepreneur who is open for further learning and sharing.
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