Continuum

by The Teeth

The cavernous halls of the Louisville airport whistled softly with an artificial breeze. These were the very small hours of the morning, a time when travelers are scarce, and without the traditional flood of dazed human bodies of which I was accustomed, my view was drastically more clear. I viewed this as an opportunity to survey my surroundings.

I felt that very few people actually noticed the details of this place. Past the odd-looking carpet, cyclopian windows, and bazaar of overpriced commonalities, there were undertones of things more sinister. The place was a mess of smells as well as attempts to mask said smells. Much of the place seemed worn out, bitterly clinging to some decades-past renovation. What worried me, however, was a series of deep, dark stains which littered the floor. Was it blood? Was it human?

Quickly putting the grim thoughts to the back of my head, I paced toward my gate. I sunk into my chair, and watched the slowly growing crowd. Men, women, and children entered the area, all exhibiting the same manner of nervous confusion. It amazes me, how quickly people can be thrown from their functional intellectual patterns. Take them into a place where they are stripped and watched as criminals, and they melt into a paranoid mess. Stanford looked into this, but the airport is a good place to see the theorem in action. All this in the name of safety.

My reason for subjecting myself to this abuse was not for some sociopolitical examination, however. I was enroute to the northeastern reaches of this land, a place that until a few years ago, I had called home. I had just a few members of my bloodline whom I held dear, and I was long overdo for a relaxing, slightly irresponsible trip. I had made an effort not to let Kentucky change me, but I wondered- What kind of culture would I be returning with? I was a radically strong-willed version of my younger self, much more able to express myself and unwilling to bend to the will of others. My guarded cautiousness learned from New England had bred with the extroverted drunkenness of Louisville. This would be a social experiment of some kind, using all of my skills to navigate in a now unfamiliar environment.

I boarded the cramped metal tube, compressed myself like human produce, and awaited takeoff. I was ready to return to the homeland.

(Continued on June the 2nd, 2014)

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