Did you ever notice that people walking through airports are like zombies? The next time you’re in an airport, look around. Walking through the terminal and toward their gates, dragging their rollaboards behind them, they all have these vacant, empty expressions on their faces. They seem to be possessed. They’re like the walking dead.
Even those who are eating something in one of the various food courts or restaurants that dot the terminal buildings are just going through the motions, opening up their mouths and stuffing some crappy food into it while either staring off into space or with their eyes affixed to their smartphone screens.
And when it’s time to board, they line up like lemmings, waiting for their boarding group number to be called and then, one after the other, like automatons, hand their boarding passes to the gate attendant before entering the long, narrow, metal tube.
Except for kids. They are still too young to have reached the airport zombie stage. They are too excited, too full of energy. They are running around and screeching and giving all of the grown up zombies bigger headaches than they already have.
And I used to enjoy flying.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: flight-airport-airplane-plane-34631 pixel photo.