On my recent airport adventure I was taken hostage by my imagination during the flight from St. paul to Fairbanks. I was afraid of the possibility I had booked myself for flights until my death, living airport/airplane passenger life for the rest of my days. I was worried about how it would feel to arrive at an airport and make my way to the departure gate of another flight, this cycle continuing indefinitely. I imagined some force pushing me on for thousands of trips around the world, getting familiar with all major city airports. and it became clear that the only way by which I might break the cycle would be for me to hack my limbs off, thereby preventing any movement toward departure gates. My demon possessed self would probably still attempt to inch forward on bleeding stubs with boarding pass between clenched teeth, but with any luck the EMT hospital folk would come snatch me up and deposit me in an emergency room bed, strapping me down tight just in case I was to try anything funny.