At last!  The conclusion to my serialized tale, "The Fifteen Year-Old and the Terrorist."  I've been telling about my introduction to travel over at my home blog, Just Go! (http://aknickerson.blogspot.com/2008/06/fifteen-year-old-and-terrorist-p...) 

Here's a taste:

"Hold my hand or I will die," he said once more. And I did. I inched my hand across and grabbed his. My palms were sweaty. My mouth was dry. And I just stared straight ahead and held the man's hand while he kept saying, "We are all going to die. We are all going to die..." over and over and over again. 

Truly, there is no way to adequately describe the fear that gripped me. Each time a flight attendant passed, my seatmate ordered more to drink. I sat quietly scared that I might do something which would cause him to detonate the bomb in his black bag. I was sure now that was what he carried. And I contemplated my mortality. I would never go to college. I would never write a book. I would never have sex or get married or have children. I would never see my family again. I couldn't even write them a note because HE was holding my right hand, and there was no way I was going to let go of his hand. There were too many lives at risk. As I sat there, I bargained with God: "I will hold this guy's hand if you will just let us live. Please God, let us get to London safely."

Head over to my blog, Just Go!, to see how the story ended: http://aknickerson.blogspot.com/2008/06/fifteen-year-old-and-terrorist-part_30.html

Ciao!