lost in the airport

lost in the airport

fiction
edward w pritchard

It's a few months into the future and everyone in  America has suddenly become lost in the airports
of our Country during bouts of travel and because of mutations of the covid 19 virus no longer have the mental facilities, stamina and will or organizational skills to return to their own lives.

In desperation drunken fratboys, wicked sorority girls and children under five have been deputized by the authorities to help confused passengers match their tickets with the flashing tote boards in a wishful gamble to return to their native States.

It's pathetic really. Somehow I stand aside trying desperately not to Judge this latest tragedy. I sit on the floor of the tarmac and read the good book and watch confused desperate strangers methodically picking up canceled ticket stubs from the ground of earlier good times trying to find the way.

The blaring loudspeakers advise constantly for normalcy, order and optimism. There is no cause for panic. Those in charge nearly have concocted a potion that's a cure or at least will soon have a vaccine. It's only few months and things will be like they used to be. But as the children move about leading the fearful confused citizens I hear them mumbling over and over with a strange smile "things ain't what they used to be. "

Outside in the parking decks everyone's new automobile has electronically self started and is idling patiently waiting  for the owners so they can zoom zoom about. Gas is chief and interest rates have been cut again. Return to your homes- it's a very good time to buy more things.