This arrangement was not something I agreed with, to say the least, so I would beg her to reconsider. This was not something that a simple relocation would fix! But my cries were to no avail. She had my belongings packed and arranged for my departure.

The day I left, she placed her lips upon my head while quietly handing me my papers. She stepped back, made sure I was fully ready for the trip ahead by securing my Walkman, and then lovingly said, “Well, you might as well kick it.”

As I entered the airplane, I was directed to the area of the cabin known as ‘first class’. Being of normal city folk, I was amazed at the things the passengers around me deemed regular. At one point, a matronly woman, dressed in the fashion of the working class, handed me a well-crafted goblet of glass with nothing but orange juice in it!

Can you imagine?

As I sat in my chair and watched the clouds glide below me, I began to wonder if this was a sign of what was to come? Is the entirety of Bel-Air used to such grandeur?