Anon - German Anon (unfinished)

>The roar of the air brakes drowned out any other sound from within the plane or
inside your own head.
>The plane finally started to slow down from it's original velocity and taxi to the
open gate.
>When all was still and the fasten seatbelt sign came off, you quickly grabbed your
carry on and rushed into the aisle.
>You wanted off this thing and back on solid ground.
>The flight was anything but quick and relaxing. About halfway through a small tropical
storm decided it was going to rip through the Atlantic, with you and the plane in the middle of it.
>Two and a half hours of non-stop turbulence before the aircraft finally broke out.
>You were not a very happy camper.
>Soon the line to the front moved enough for you to walk into that-thing-nobody-knows-the-name-of that connects the plane to the gate.
>As you stepped off you breathed a fresh breath of air conditioning and too many people.
>JFK International Airport.
>One of America’s busiest airports.
>Also a hub for transmitting disease, black market items, and other unsavory things.
>The airports back home were so much cleaner.
>Snapping out of your fantasy of home you remember why you were here in the first
place.
>You skim the tops of the crowds looking for-- Ah! There it is!
>In the distance you see a spiky, blue haired boy in a leather jacket holding
a sign up high that says: “Anon Ymous”
>You weave your way through the crowds of people in the general direction of the boy.
>Eventually you get close enough to wave at him to get his attention, to which he returns the gesture.
>Another bout of crowd swimming and you come face-to-face with the boy.
>He sticks out his hand in greeting.
>”Hi there! You must be Anon. My name is Flash Sentry. Welcome to America!”
>You smile and give the offered hand a firm shake.
“Guten tag Herr Sentry! Ja my name is Anon, and thank you!”
>”Well, should we get to the baggage claim then?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
>you both walked in a comfortable silence for the next fifteen minutes.
>It probably took longer because of all the people running around and shoving you.
>Fucking Americans
>Not Flash though. For now he seemed to be an okay guy.
>You reached the baggage carousel in due time and claimed your bags.
>With all your belongings in order you turned to Flash.
“How will we be getting to your home Herr Sentry?”
>He laughed a little bit.
>”I’ll be driving us there. Should be about a… three hour drive to Canterlot Hills.”
>”And dude, if we’re going to be living with each other for the next school year, we might as well drop the formalities. Just call me Flash.”
>This was off to a great start!
>You had your reservations about this when you signed up for the program but those are slowly going away with each passing minute.
>You can only hope it will remain that way.
“I think I can do that, Flash.”
>”Awesome. Let’s go then.”
>Another long and pushy walk ensued to make your way to the parking lot outside the
airport.
>Outside was just a busy as the inside, impatient road-ragers looking for places or people screeching past in their pickups and priuses replacing the crowds.
>Soon you and Flash found yourselves in front of his car.
>It was… A Mustang.
>*Le sigh
>Americans. Americans never change.
>You pack your bags into the trunk and get in.
>Flash starts the car up and you’re on your way.
>The ride wasn’t actually that bad, the road was smooth and the interior looked immaculate.
>Flash obviously took very good care of his car.
>He also didn’t behave like a typical American road hog either.
>+1 respect for Flash.
>The three hours flew by and you found yourself in a rich looking neighborhood suburb.
>The houses here all looked so big! How can they afford to take up so much space?!
>Back in Germany everyone lived so close together and big, private houses with yards were an expensive commodity.
>Just one of the advantages of living the American Dream you guess.
>Flash came to a stop in front of a large looking house on the right.
>”This is me! I’ll help with your bags.”
“Nein, I have it. Just open the doors from me, yes?”
>You both got out and went your respective ways.
>Flash opened the door as you came waddling up the steps with your bags.
>Why did you pack so much shit?
>You shuffled into the house as Flash closed the door and locked it behind you.
>”Welcome to casa de Sentry! My mom and sister aren't home right now so we have the whole place to ourselves.”
>He pointed to the large staircase that led to the top floor.
>”Show you to your room?”
“Ja, that would be good, I need to set these down.”
>A short trip upstairs later and you find yourself in a nice looking guest room.
>A full size bed, nightstand, chest-of-drawers, bathroom, and a damn walk-in closet!
>You say again… Americans.
>”I think i’m gonna head off. You make yourself comfortable alright?”
“Ja , I can do this. Bis morgen!”
>As Flash leaves to go to his own room you begin the long and arduous task of unloading everything from your bags into the respective places.
>It was about three in the afternoon when you left Germany, so by the time you arrived the sun was starting to go down.
>When you finished the sky to the west was a brilliant mix of royal purples, flaming oranges, and angry reds and the sun was just a sliver in the horizon of the distant New York City.
>You didn’t feel tired, but you knew that was just the jet-lag talking, so you stipped down and crawled into bed to force yourself to sleep.
>It was three days until the American school year started and you needed to be ready.
>You are German Anon. And you get the inkling feeling that this year is going to be very, very, weird.