everything is airport

by Marty Shambles

We are public in the airport and the airport is everything. Cameras train on every angle and broadcast to other areas of the airport. We are encouraged to say something if we see something suspicious. Security is tight. The TSA agents walk around doing whatever they want to people because they are the entire authority. There is no smoking section.

The planes leave and land at other areas of the airport. The airport has swallowed nature and exotic locales. The terminals number in the millions.

I was a traveler. I liked to see new parts of the airport I'd never seen before. I went to the 30,000's last summer and now I am in line to go to the upper millions. My episode of the Samurai Show is playing on the television. That's where people are paid to have body parts chopped off by a samurai. Game shows are the major driver of the economy. The VIP lounges are populated with people who are missing limbs, digits, noses, ears, tits, dicks, you name it.

As I watch myself on the screen, I feel the meaty nub where my pinky was. The man next to me is also watching the screen and he notices that I'm the guy from the TV.
I say, "Yeah that's me."

He says, "Pinky? Good move. Doesn't pay much though. I lost my left hand to pay for medical expenses. I liked that hand. It was a good hand."

"Yeah I don't need much. I travel light and I just want to see new terminals."

He lowers his voice, "I'm working my way up to the Last Terminal."

I lower my voice too, "You're not supposed to look for that."

He whispers, "Aren't you curious though? Don't you need to know some sort of definition to life? Doesn't there need to be a satisfying ending?"

I say, "I'm just interested in seeing new parts of the airport I've never seen before. I want to experience the airport of new cultures. I want to try new cafeterias from 1-10 million."

He says, "Me too. That's exactly what I'm talking about. The ultimate tourist destination. How can you say you've seen it all if you haven't seen the end?"

At this moment, the 2 TSA agents carry off this stranger, putting a black bag over his head, shouting, "I never thought it could happen to me!"

I felt the throb of where my pinky was, and then it was time to board.

I sit next to a woman with her hair draped to one side to hide her prosthetic ear. We're crammed in tight, like cattle, or sardines, or some other salted meat. i like to think of the plane as a womb: packed in tight, but with the comfort of knowing it's all taken care of. There are episodes of The Samurai Show on a little screen embedded in the back of the seat in front of me. And as I watch the blood spurts from a severed nose, I think about that guy I shouldn't think of anymore and what he said about seeing it all. I begin to wonder about the nature of the airport and how it might end. The plane takes off and I can't see out the window because I am in the middle seat, but I imagine it's billions of acres of airport, stretching as far as human expression.

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