Take-off and landing, Michael knew this was when the majority of planes crashes occurred. He stared out the small window from his seat over the wing feeling the rush of speed as the engines thrust at full throttle, the jet screamed down the runway, then swiftly the giant metal/mechanical bird gently lifted up off the ground. Michael gripped the armrests with white knuckles, is heart racing, as he felt the airplane become weightless as it soared up ever higher in to the overcast, grey skies. Michael stared down looking one last time at his beloved city, and this moment would prove to be a painful stab at his heart for the rest of his life, for the Fates were determined to make sure he never would return to the 'city in a garden', Chicago, and as he took one last look at the land, the woods, the schools, highways, lakes, houses and buildings, somewhere deep inside of what remained of his soul, Michael knew he would never come home again. However, his need to be free exceeded all reason, so he fled. Michael would do everything to leave America, along with a lifetime of memories, all of his friends, his home, his hopes, his dreams, and his favorite team, the Chicago Bulls, all he would sadly leave to start a new life in a different land. And Michael knew not what fresh hell would await him in Buenos Aires, but he would do anything to get away from spending the next ten years in a prison cell.
The plane disappeared into the thick layer of clouds; which had obscured the sunrise, Michael sat in awe as they broke through the grey clouds where, up above, the brilliant shining sun blazed across the heavens reflecting pale pinks and amethyst on the white blanket of billowing clouds. The bright blue sky stretching on forever across the horizon where Michael observed the curvature of the earth, staring out at the spectacular display of nature Michael felt himself breathing a little easier, relaxing his 'death grip' from his seat as a gentle, deep, abiding peace filled his mind and body. All his thoughts and plans for the future, or memories from his trouble past, were non existent at this moment. Michael sat back gazing out the window, completely relaxed, he felt the numbing fingers of the whiskey, he had been given by the stewardess, creeping through his veins.
"Sir." the green eyed stewardess nudged Michael, who had nodded off shortly after take off. "We need you to buckle up, we are about to land." she smiled cheerfully assisting him with the procedure giving him a little playful wink.
"We're in Texas?" Michael asked puzzled for he thought he had just closed his eyes, if but for a brief moment.
"Yes sir, Love Field, Dallas." she laughed a little saying "You were out like a light, you must not have slept very much last night." she said absolutely correct in her assumption "But it has been a pleasure to have you on my flight, I told you, you would be safe on board! You have a nice stay, here in Big D!"
Michael sat up straight still amazed he had been dead asleep for the last three hours. Now when it came time to land and touchdown back on Terra Firma, the peace and ease of his mind, body and soul, departed from him like smoke in the wind, every fiber of his being became as tense as wire, a short sharp pain twisted up in his spine again, and he began to take in quick breaths as the plane roared down from the sky towards the runway, of the tiny airport built in the middle of an, ever growing, metropolitan city. Michael was sure they would drop out of the heavens and crash down onto one the many homes on Mockingbird Lane. However his panic and understandable trepidation was clearly unfounded as the captain brought the silver bird gently down to a safe and secure landing as the plane came back to Earth again.
Now, our Michael was not a religious man and he had lost his connection with God many years ago, but this fact did not deter Mr. Michael Cullen from offering up a silent prayer of thanks to his Lord. The jet taxied up to the terminal and in a few minutes the passengers were all happily at the gate, taking their turn deplaning, as everyone was cheerfully thanked by the flight attendants along with the captain and her co-pilot.
Relieved and happy back to be safely on the ground, Michael wheeled his carry on luggage out of the airport and out to the waiting line of taxi's, whereupon Michael took a short ride to a small, inexpensive, motel off of highway 183 in Irving. Michael checked into his room and settled down. Even though this was Texas, it was the middle of winter and it was cold! No snow or gale force winds off Lake Michigan, but it was cold and depressing just the same. So Michael cranked up the heating unit built into the window as he looked at his watch it was still only 10 o'clock in the morning and he, being very hungry, decided to go over and get some breakfast at the Waffle House, located in the parking lot of the motel. Michael changed out of his tailored suit and into a pair of comfortable jeans and a long sleeve, cable-knit sweater and a pair of Nike's, to get more comfortable now he made it to the Lone Star State. Michael breathed a sigh of relief knowing phase #1of his plan was complete, and phase #2 would begin tomorrow morning. So Michael hid his suitcase, full of expensive watches and the ten grand in cash under the bed. Michael switched on the television, turning up the volume, before he walked over to the southern restaurant, where he took a table facing the window, so Michael could keep an eye on the door to his room. What was served up to him that cold morning in Texas, by a sweet, rather large country girl, was a nice warm stack of fluffy blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and maple syrup, a side of extra crisp pepper bacon, a thick and cheesy Denver omelet, a pile of greasy hash browns 'smothered and covered' and the best sausage gravy and biscuits Michael had ever tasted, all washed down with three cold glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice, followed by a cup of hot chocolate with extra whip cream and a dash of cinnamon.
By the time he paid the check, Michael was so bloated from the food he had gorged himself upon, his jeans were not as loose fitting as when he first sat down, so he unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. Walking slowly Michael fell back to his room, where collapsed on the bed, curling up under the covers still fully clothed, his shoes kicked off at the door. Michael drifted off to sleep in a food-coma-stupor, with the radio on tuned to a local alternative music station, as a song called Jeremy, by a band called Pearl Jam, softly played. Here Michael felt safe for the moment, so far away from the district attorney, and the criminal prosecutor in his case, but they were all completely unaware Dr.Cullen had fled the state. His court date was not until next week, no one knew he had left Illinois, no one knew he would flee the United States, and her jurisdiction. With all this on his mind Michael was able to get some rest knowing all he had to do was hide out until 6:30 in the a.m. until tomorrow and then his freedom would be just one short cab ride, and a long flight to Argentina, away.
The plane disappeared into the thick layer of clouds; which had obscured the sunrise, Michael sat in awe as they broke through the grey clouds where, up above, the brilliant shining sun blazed across the heavens reflecting pale pinks and amethyst on the white blanket of billowing clouds. The bright blue sky stretching on forever across the horizon where Michael observed the curvature of the earth, staring out at the spectacular display of nature Michael felt himself breathing a little easier, relaxing his 'death grip' from his seat as a gentle, deep, abiding peace filled his mind and body. All his thoughts and plans for the future, or memories from his trouble past, were non existent at this moment. Michael sat back gazing out the window, completely relaxed, he felt the numbing fingers of the whiskey, he had been given by the stewardess, creeping through his veins.
"Sir." the green eyed stewardess nudged Michael, who had nodded off shortly after take off. "We need you to buckle up, we are about to land." she smiled cheerfully assisting him with the procedure giving him a little playful wink.
"We're in Texas?" Michael asked puzzled for he thought he had just closed his eyes, if but for a brief moment.
"Yes sir, Love Field, Dallas." she laughed a little saying "You were out like a light, you must not have slept very much last night." she said absolutely correct in her assumption "But it has been a pleasure to have you on my flight, I told you, you would be safe on board! You have a nice stay, here in Big D!"
Michael sat up straight still amazed he had been dead asleep for the last three hours. Now when it came time to land and touchdown back on Terra Firma, the peace and ease of his mind, body and soul, departed from him like smoke in the wind, every fiber of his being became as tense as wire, a short sharp pain twisted up in his spine again, and he began to take in quick breaths as the plane roared down from the sky towards the runway, of the tiny airport built in the middle of an, ever growing, metropolitan city. Michael was sure they would drop out of the heavens and crash down onto one the many homes on Mockingbird Lane. However his panic and understandable trepidation was clearly unfounded as the captain brought the silver bird gently down to a safe and secure landing as the plane came back to Earth again.
Now, our Michael was not a religious man and he had lost his connection with God many years ago, but this fact did not deter Mr. Michael Cullen from offering up a silent prayer of thanks to his Lord. The jet taxied up to the terminal and in a few minutes the passengers were all happily at the gate, taking their turn deplaning, as everyone was cheerfully thanked by the flight attendants along with the captain and her co-pilot.
Relieved and happy back to be safely on the ground, Michael wheeled his carry on luggage out of the airport and out to the waiting line of taxi's, whereupon Michael took a short ride to a small, inexpensive, motel off of highway 183 in Irving. Michael checked into his room and settled down. Even though this was Texas, it was the middle of winter and it was cold! No snow or gale force winds off Lake Michigan, but it was cold and depressing just the same. So Michael cranked up the heating unit built into the window as he looked at his watch it was still only 10 o'clock in the morning and he, being very hungry, decided to go over and get some breakfast at the Waffle House, located in the parking lot of the motel. Michael changed out of his tailored suit and into a pair of comfortable jeans and a long sleeve, cable-knit sweater and a pair of Nike's, to get more comfortable now he made it to the Lone Star State. Michael breathed a sigh of relief knowing phase #1of his plan was complete, and phase #2 would begin tomorrow morning. So Michael hid his suitcase, full of expensive watches and the ten grand in cash under the bed. Michael switched on the television, turning up the volume, before he walked over to the southern restaurant, where he took a table facing the window, so Michael could keep an eye on the door to his room. What was served up to him that cold morning in Texas, by a sweet, rather large country girl, was a nice warm stack of fluffy blueberry pancakes drenched in butter and maple syrup, a side of extra crisp pepper bacon, a thick and cheesy Denver omelet, a pile of greasy hash browns 'smothered and covered' and the best sausage gravy and biscuits Michael had ever tasted, all washed down with three cold glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice, followed by a cup of hot chocolate with extra whip cream and a dash of cinnamon.
By the time he paid the check, Michael was so bloated from the food he had gorged himself upon, his jeans were not as loose fitting as when he first sat down, so he unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. Walking slowly Michael fell back to his room, where collapsed on the bed, curling up under the covers still fully clothed, his shoes kicked off at the door. Michael drifted off to sleep in a food-coma-stupor, with the radio on tuned to a local alternative music station, as a song called Jeremy, by a band called Pearl Jam, softly played. Here Michael felt safe for the moment, so far away from the district attorney, and the criminal prosecutor in his case, but they were all completely unaware Dr.Cullen had fled the state. His court date was not until next week, no one knew he had left Illinois, no one knew he would flee the United States, and her jurisdiction. With all this on his mind Michael was able to get some rest knowing all he had to do was hide out until 6:30 in the a.m. until tomorrow and then his freedom would be just one short cab ride, and a long flight to Argentina, away.
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