9.27.25: Airport Time

Airports are weird liminal spaces where humanity collectively decides time is fake. It’s 7 a.m., but someone’s drinking beer, another person’s eating noodles, and a kid’s playing Fortnite at full volume. None of it feels wrong. I once spent a ten-hour layover wandering like a ghost, half-asleep, trying to remember what “outside” even looked like. That’s when it hit me: airports aren’t just gateways between cities. They’re simulations of future dystopias, where we live in terminals forever, trading overpriced sandwiches as currency, our identities reduced to flight numbers. Honestly, we might already be practicing for that reality.