The Runway
On a day-to-day basis we all face times of gloom and joy, when plotted on a curve of life it is seen as failure and success. The flights landing on the airport are akin to the times of failure and gloom and the flight taking off in the vast blue skies, flying at great heights is akin to success on the Runway of life.
Overwhelming, cacophonous sounds drowned my thoughts. Yet, this orchestrated symphony of honking horns, chattering crowds, and footsteps striking the pavement felt like an auditory treat as I joined the long queue for security verification. Beads of perspiration slid down the side of my neck, threatening to dapple my blazer with two-tone patches, until they were suddenly stalled by an icy draught of air. Refreshed, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs as my chest heaved upward. When my eyes popped open, I found myself right at the foot of the sliding glass doors—the true entrance to the airport.
Barely had I stepped inside when I saw people flowing like brooks, gushing in and swirling past obstacles. Near the baggage counter, a gathering of solo women travelers resembled a vibrant candy shop: a few voluptuous women adorned in multi-colored dresses looked akin to rainbow lollipops, while teenage girls in stilettos scattered past like confetti. After checking my flight details on my phone, I glimpsed the check-in counter to find people crammed together like hens in a battery cage. Spontaneously, I waded through the crowd toward the kiosk to check in faster.
Boarding pass in hand and security completed, I decided to catch my breath in the lounge. Riding the escalator up, I caught a comfortable aerial view of the immigration center, which looked exactly like a dominoed arrangement of cards. To my right, senior citizens sat on metal chairs right beside the Arrival Gate; to my left, children played with the fish in the famous Spot-it ponds. The aroma of confectionery and savory snacks percolated through the air, but I promenaded toward the elite shops, shielding my handbag from hurried travelers who swished past me. Fortunately, I had ample time to dig into a quick bite before my flight took off on its full-fledged, two-hour journey sans food.
Treating myself to a sizzling hot, hard-rock brownie drizzled with chocolate sauce, I amused myself by watching a baby intrigued by an old couple arguing over medicines left at home. From my swirling stool, I watched the room's dual energy: some people lounged deeply in low, comfy chairs, while others bounced anxiously on their toes. Away from this family zone, in a dimly lit corner, workaholics sat with laptops open, locked into phone calls.
Suddenly, the screech of a landing plane diverted my attention to the runway, sparking a thought about the plight of humans. Difficulties often arrive with a loud bang, but they depart in silence. Success, too, is soundless—it is only visible when one looks up into the vast blue skies where planes fly at great heights.
Hauling myself out of my reverie, I saw the clock ticking to half past ten. It was time. I gathered my things, ready to board the plane and embark on another journey commencing from the runway.