The Airport Zone
The year is 2022 on a day much like today. A middle-aged couple is on their way to a family reunion. The bags are packed, the toothbrushes forgotten. They think they are going to Nashville, but their next stop is: The Airport Zone.
The airport looks as though it belongs to their world. But when they enter the zone their minds and behavior undergo a shift. Top secret government scientists working from area 51 believe that alien beings are doing mind experiments. To what end they do not know, but their orders are to withhold this information from the public for now. Will our couple escape in time? Or will they be trapped forever in The Airport Zone?
T hey hand over their bags to a stranger and are told to stand in a long line of passengers shuffling slowly toward “security.” Once, these passengers were individuals with personalities, but now they all look strangely alike and are disturbingly compliant as they remove their shoes and belts and send their devices containing their life’s work unhesitatingly through mysterious machines. They are told to step into a machine themselves to be “scanned.” One by one they step in, and one by one they–or at least their bodies step out. Our couple passes through and walks down the huge concourse looking for the gate number on their ticket. Their gate is the last gate. It is always the last gate. Even though they pass many gates full of people, it will turn out that every single person they pass will eventually be told to go to this last and final gate.
The couple arrives. In unison they look at the sign. A47. Yes. They are here. They have both brought work to do. But instead, they join the others walking zombie like slowly back up the way they came. The flight has been delayed. They look at shops that they have no interest in and find a rather nice T-shirt for $47.95. Their brains have not yet been completely overcome so they do not buy the shirt. Instead, they buy expensive bottles of water to replace the water they had to throw away at security. Moving on, they read the back covers of every book in one store and browse magazines at another. They continue to wander until they are ready to spend $7 on some carrot sticks and $8 more for a pretzel. Oh, and some gum and those Godiva chocolate pearls.
Tired, they hike back to A47, thinking to sleep, but there is no real sleep in the airport zone. After some time, they give it up. The man actually takes out his laptop and opens it. He imagines he is working, but he is mostly staring into space. The woman takes out her book. After ten minutes she realizes that she has no idea what she is reading and instead takes out a book of puzzles. “What’s a ‘coster-monger?’ she asks. He looks at the ceiling as if hoping the answer might be there. It isn’t. “How many letters?” he dully responds. They both stare into the distance.
“I’m going to take another lap,” she says. “Wanna come?” “No, I’ve got to get this done,” he says. She drifts back to the newspaper shops staring at the racks of potato chips as though she has never seen packaged food before. After spending about $47.95 on random items not nearly as useful as the T-shirt she rejected, she hikes back to her gate. Her husband is still staring into space.
Eventually the flight is called. For the first time they both become aware of an urgent need to use the bathroom. Off they sprint, or try to, as their bodies have shaped themselves to the airport chairs. At last, they are permitted to enter the big silver tube that promises to take them to their destination. They go willingly despite the many alarming noises it is making.
Our couple is one of the lucky ones. They arrive in Nashville, have a good time, re-enter the airport zone and arrive safely back at their home city. As they begin to drive home, they cross the invisible airport threshold. The air shimmers around them and they are allowed to return to the earth they know and love. This time.
Later, they unpack and enjoy their daughter’s happy face as she receives the souvenirs they brought back for her. Then they hand her a cheap looking, bright red plastic, boot shaped drink cozy. Looking at it now, they realize this is not something she, or anybody else, would want.
“Ummmm, thanks,” she says politely.
“We got stuck at the airport,” they explain.
She’s done quite a bit of traveling herself. “I understand.” she says smiling.
The airport looks as though it belongs to their world. But when they enter the zone their minds and behavior undergo a shift. Top secret government scientists working from area 51 believe that alien beings are doing mind experiments. To what end they do not know, but their orders are to withhold this information from the public for now. Will our couple escape in time? Or will they be trapped forever in The Airport Zone?
T hey hand over their bags to a stranger and are told to stand in a long line of passengers shuffling slowly toward “security.” Once, these passengers were individuals with personalities, but now they all look strangely alike and are disturbingly compliant as they remove their shoes and belts and send their devices containing their life’s work unhesitatingly through mysterious machines. They are told to step into a machine themselves to be “scanned.” One by one they step in, and one by one they–or at least their bodies step out. Our couple passes through and walks down the huge concourse looking for the gate number on their ticket. Their gate is the last gate. It is always the last gate. Even though they pass many gates full of people, it will turn out that every single person they pass will eventually be told to go to this last and final gate.
The couple arrives. In unison they look at the sign. A47. Yes. They are here. They have both brought work to do. But instead, they join the others walking zombie like slowly back up the way they came. The flight has been delayed. They look at shops that they have no interest in and find a rather nice T-shirt for $47.95. Their brains have not yet been completely overcome so they do not buy the shirt. Instead, they buy expensive bottles of water to replace the water they had to throw away at security. Moving on, they read the back covers of every book in one store and browse magazines at another. They continue to wander until they are ready to spend $7 on some carrot sticks and $8 more for a pretzel. Oh, and some gum and those Godiva chocolate pearls.
Tired, they hike back to A47, thinking to sleep, but there is no real sleep in the airport zone. After some time, they give it up. The man actually takes out his laptop and opens it. He imagines he is working, but he is mostly staring into space. The woman takes out her book. After ten minutes she realizes that she has no idea what she is reading and instead takes out a book of puzzles. “What’s a ‘coster-monger?’ she asks. He looks at the ceiling as if hoping the answer might be there. It isn’t. “How many letters?” he dully responds. They both stare into the distance.
“I’m going to take another lap,” she says. “Wanna come?” “No, I’ve got to get this done,” he says. She drifts back to the newspaper shops staring at the racks of potato chips as though she has never seen packaged food before. After spending about $47.95 on random items not nearly as useful as the T-shirt she rejected, she hikes back to her gate. Her husband is still staring into space.
Eventually the flight is called. For the first time they both become aware of an urgent need to use the bathroom. Off they sprint, or try to, as their bodies have shaped themselves to the airport chairs. At last, they are permitted to enter the big silver tube that promises to take them to their destination. They go willingly despite the many alarming noises it is making.
Our couple is one of the lucky ones. They arrive in Nashville, have a good time, re-enter the airport zone and arrive safely back at their home city. As they begin to drive home, they cross the invisible airport threshold. The air shimmers around them and they are allowed to return to the earth they know and love. This time.
Later, they unpack and enjoy their daughter’s happy face as she receives the souvenirs they brought back for her. Then they hand her a cheap looking, bright red plastic, boot shaped drink cozy. Looking at it now, they realize this is not something she, or anybody else, would want.
“Ummmm, thanks,” she says politely.
“We got stuck at the airport,” they explain.
She’s done quite a bit of traveling herself. “I understand.” she says smiling.