by S. L. Jordan

I glanced up long enough to step off the escalator safely before I continued to mindlessly follow the crowd through the tunnel. Ironically enough, for someone with a disdain for Vegas this was my 5^th layover in McCarran International Airport this year.

Haphazardly scrolling through my social media, I broke off from the larger group and continued to migrate with a small group towards the train for Terminal D. I was catching an early flight back to Houston, and the airport was slightly deserted. A change of pace from the hustle I usually experience in McCarran.

Beside me, there was a woman struggling with two children under the age of – what had to be 3 whilst her husband waltz along side her pushing an empty stroller. I said a silent prayer for her traveling grace and directed my attention back to my timeline.

As we collectively neared the train the pace of the group slowed considerably. Okay HERE is the crowd that been missing, I thought.

I looked up to see two small groups to the left and right of me. To the left there were doors for a train with a sign that said, “Gates D ….”

Hmmm, that’s odd. There was no estimated time of arrival for the train.

To my right above the doors to the train the sign read, “Gates D – A …. Arriving in 3 minutes … V”. The confusion could be seen across the faces in the crowd. The phrasing was odd. D – A? V? I was flying domestically. What did that V mean? 5? I racked my brain trying to recall if I had seen that phrasing in any other airport. I could not.

There was a subtle collective swaying in the crowd as passengers tried deciding which direction to go. Typical of me, my flight was leaving soon, and I did not have the luxury of waiting to see when the other train was arriving. With purpose in my steps, I made my way to the right side and waited for the train to arrive.

I stepped onto the empty train as it arrived along with the father I walked past earlier. His wife was still trailing behind him with their two toddlers. As the doors were closing, he casually yelled out “I’ll see you guys at the gate”.

What a fucking jerk, I thought.

My sentiment was echoed across his wife’s face as the doors closed.

Leaning against the rail, I turned my attention back to my timeline to continue mindlessly scrolling. There was sharp turn and loud noise as we went through a tunnel – “oh shit, please don’t let this train stop in this tunnel” I silently prayed.

As the train slowed to a stop, I stepped out on autopilot almost as soon as the doors opened. My departure was halted by the passenger in front of me.

“My bad”, I said as I practically ran up the back of their shoes.

I looked up to make sure my apology was received when I noticed the purple sky.

Why am I seeing the sky? Why is it purple? I thought. I had taken an edible before leaving this morning, but it was only 25mg. See, this is why I usually stick to flower. Edibles will have you tripping in public.

It was one of those moments where your brain knows it’s seeing something it shouldn’t, but your processing time is lagged by the oddity itself.

I was inside of an airport and should not be seeing an open sky. Let alone one that was purple. That much I knew. I glanced around at the few passengers that had board the train with me, and the looks on their faces let me know I was not alone on this trip. Literally and figuratively.

I turned around to look at the train that delivered us here, and I caught a glimpse of it as it disappeared back into the tunnel.

The sign on the back of the train read, “Gates D – A : …. Veriterian”

“Veriterian? Where TF is that?” I yelled out loud.

At my announcement, my fellow passengers turned to see that last of the train as it rode off into the dark tunnel.

Author’s Note:

In my usual fashion, I “pants” this post versus “plotting” it. Meaning, its extremely RAW.

Last month, I was in McCarran airport and as I was walking to the train for Gates D there were two trains. One of the signs was misleading, and almost instantly this story started to form in my mind. It’s giving a bit of Harry Potter Platform 9 ¾ with a mix of La Brea. The possibilities are endless with this story, but I CAN NOT start another writing project until I complete the illustrations for #NightwatcherOfKweensPort

Enjoy.