Landing was its own brand of torment. The descent felt like being slowly crushed by a friendly giant. I whispered prayers to the gods of aerodynamics. When the wheels touched down, I almost cried. Almost. I save crying for broken bones and sad dog commercials.
Exiting the plane was a slow, awkward shuffle. People pushed past me. I didn’t care. I was a survivor. I made it. The terminal never looked so beautiful.
I walked out into fresh air, and I’m not exaggerating—it felt like being born again. Welcome to Earth, idiot.
