by Bruce Lansky
My first time flying in a plane
was an experience.
I would have traveled in a bus
if I had had more sense.

The pilot said, “Now buckle up.
We’ll soon be in the air.”
I held my breath, I gripped my seat,
I said a little prayer.

And then when we had taken off
I tried to read a book.
I started feeling sleepy—
just from a single look.

I put the book down on my seat
and closed my eyes to nap.
A steward serving coffee poured
some right into my lap.

The bathrooms were all occupied
just when I had to go.
I crossed my legs and squeezed them tight—
the bathroom line was slow.

A stewardess was passing by.
She told me I looked sick.
She handed me an airsick pill
she hoped would do the trick.

She handed me a barfing bag
to use if I felt queasy.
I wonder why I ever thought
that flying would be easy.


Text © Bruce Lansky reprinted from My Dog Ate My Homework!, published by Meadowbrook Press. Illustration © Stephen Carpenter. Any copying or use of this poem or illustration without consent is unlawful.

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