I loved flying on my own, as a human. Sure I got song weird looks, along with few attempts of kidnapping, but it was so much better than being in a giant mechanical plane. The rush of the wind currents on your skin, the occasional bug slamming into your face, even the times that I zoned out and free fell a decent distance were amazing. Everything about flying exhilarated me. I especially loved how I could take my friends up into the sky with me, and show them the world from a new perspective. Of course, I had to be careful who I took up with me, because if I ended up with a guy who had a previously unknown fear of heights, and he started kicking, well, it often didn't end well for him. Then there were the kickers. They were the ones that didn't understand that I was in control, not them. So they would mess with me, make me do stunts, and most oftenly, kick me when I wouldn't do what they wanted. Most of the time they would adapt and accept that I was in charge when we were in the sky, but then there were others who didn't. Let's just say that the got an unexpected trip to the supposed afterlife.

My absolute favorite person to take up with me was Bret. He was always so calm and relaxed as I flew him around. Of course, I could tell that he wanted nothing more than to scream and kick and try to touch the earth again, but somehow he found a way to keep it in. The best part was when we did loopy- loops. He told me once that when we do them, he got to feel like he was carrying me, and he loved having any sense of control. Over the years we got more adventurous, and did more tricks, and flew for farther distances, and even played pranks. One time, at the lake, I dropped him in from really high up, and he scared the s*** out of some neighborhood kids! I had to hurry and get him out before the physical crap from the little blonde boy got to him. It was great. Then we went through high school, and we sort of split up. By college, we rarely talked. I ended up forgetting how to fly, and he forgot about me. We both had families, and grew old, only to see each other again. There was a little art shop down the street from the barber shop I went to, and one day, I decided to go and check it out. After perusing for a little bit, I came to a small scrapbook at the back of the store. I flipped through the pages, and found countless pictures of us. Me holding him in the air above a field, him splashing into the lake, even a picture of us mid loopty- loop. It was amazing. All that time we spent together, and yet, neither of us chose to document it. I ended up buying the scrapbook, along with another just like it, and now one sits one both of our desks. Just sitting there, reminding us of our fun together.