"Gate to be Announced Shortly" by Daniel Birch

We are waiting for our flight. 

We are a group of four (the Beatles but worse): Alan, Susie, Paul, me. We are playing eye-spy and two-truths-one-lie and all manner of exciting games. We are attempting handstands. 

We are still waiting for our flight. We are researching the history and etymology of goldfish on Wikipedia. 

We are eating all our food, a royal buffet of sandwiches and apples and salted almonds.

We are talking to an old lady—she is going to Malta to spread her husband’s ashes. We are nodding seriously. 

We are informed by a self-serious Italian man about his scruples with the corrupt Italian government. We are nodding in confusion. 

We are analysed by an American. We are lectured by an Argentinian. We are quickly running out of fun anecdotes to tell each other. 

We are called suddenly to Gate 5, but once there we are told by airport staff to go away. We are seriously and diplomatically discussing our options as if we have any at all. 

We are watching the sun set on the sticky smoking balcony. We are more than slightly tired of waiting. We are planning on sleeping in shifts. 

We are called again to Gate 5, but this time there is nobody there.

***

There is no flight, says Alan, who hasn’t slept in at least thirty hours. There is no flight. There is no holiday. There is no plane. There is no hope. There are only duty-free shops and overpriced cafés and fast-food restaurants and all of them have kicked us out because we didn’t buy anything.

There is no reason to get hysterical, I tell Alan. 

There is no God, Alan continues. There is no afterlife. There is no reason for anything. There is no meaning and there is no time. There is nothing. There is nothing. 

***

Alan falls asleep, finally. Susie wakes up and checks the live departures board and starts crying. 

Phil wakes up and does some push-ups. I count the number of windows on the upper floor (it’s ninety-three). 

Paul does jumping jacks. Susie falls asleep again. Alan wakes up.

I am falling asleep. Paul is doing chin-ups. Alan falls asleep again. I begin talking to a wall to stay awake. 

Paul does Tai Chi until the airport staff ask him to stop. 

I fall asleep.

***

Then I wake up. 

Then I eat my second-to-last packet of salted almonds. Then I tell Paul I’m down to my last fucking packet of salted almonds. Then Paul says he finished his food two hours ago so I can join the club. 

Then Susie starts physically attacking Alan, all punches and flying kicks and everything, and the rest of us just watch in shock. Then she stops and apologises, says that she doesn’t know what came over her. 

Then we are called to Gate 5 again. Then, then, then—the plane is actually here. 

Then we are actually boarding the flight, and I can’t believe this is happening, and Susie says this is the happiest she’s been in her entire life. 

Then we are waiting for two hours at a standstill on the runway. Then we are told to get off the plane. Then we go back into customs. 

Then Alan vomits on the floor. Then the flight is cancelled.

Daniel Birch is a writer of fiction and nonfiction from the UK. He currently lives on the Cornish coast, where he studies English & Creative Writing at Falmouth University. More of his work can be found on his blog, https://contagiouswordsblog.wordpress.com