Question

An descriptive writing on a plane journey

Answer 1

The night was December 6, 1994, cold, dark, and crystal clear. The temperature was fifty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and the winds were blowing southwest at seven miles per hour. It was a night I will never forget.As I stood in the open doorway that night, with only the reflection of the moonlight shining in my eyes and the wind blowing so cold across my body it caused me to shiver, my teeth began to chatter and goosebumps ran down my spine. I cautiously raised my trembling hands to shoulder level with palms facing outward. I leaned slightly forward, placing my hands against the ice cold steel frame of the doorway. I felt breathless as the wind blew past my face, reminding me of when I was a child riding in a fast moving car with my head outside the window. I remained breathless and awestruck as a gust of wind gushed by, taking my breath away.As I looked below at a distance of 1,250 feet at the splendor and beauty of two cities, Columbus, Georgia, and Phoenix City, Alabama, I saw thousands of glittering lights from above in my doorway. Some lights were blinking; some lights were not; some lights were red; some were green; and some were yellow. They reminded me of a freshly decorated Christmas tree on Christmas morning. A river snaked its way around the cities, sparkling in the moonlight like a satin ribbon wrapped around a special package. I was astounded at the amazing beauty and tranquility of the cities far below. I could see the distinctive features of buildings, houses, and cars, their occupants oblivious of me above.My view was not obstructed or limited by a small window, as it would be by that of a commercial plane. It was not surprising that the citizens could not see the silhouette of the aircraft that I traveled in, that I leaned out of, because its exterior, the fuselage and wings, were camouflaged with dark brown, forest green, and flat black paint.