In Between Two Worlds

Same gate, different god.

The Airport

The airport is a threshold, a place where everyone gathers in between two worlds. Part purgatory, part possibility. It’s not sacred, it’s primal. A mess of overpriced snacks, existential dread, and clumsy strategies. A circus of humanity.

Some are chasing aliveness. Some are running on fumes. Some are saying goodbye with a lump in their throat. Others are returning with a story in their bones, and the quiet promise that there’s more to life than what they left behind.

The airport is where identity slips off like a coat you don’t need anymore. It’s where reinvention boards early, and performance is left behind at security. No one is exactly themselves here, just versions in transit. Some running toward something, others quietly fleeing.

It takes skill to be cool in an airport. Effortless is earned. Nonchalance is an achievement. Everyone is sweating, spiraling, fake-smiling, or bulldozing their way to Gate 37 with zero regard for personal space.

But the airport is more than gates and runways. It’s a portal, a pressure cooker, a personality test in public court.

Look around, the hungover backpacker, the corporate zombie, the mother on the verge, the husband on autopilot. Same terminal, different truths.

Someone’s flying to see old friends. Another’s flying home to a family they dread. Same gate, different gods.

There’s chaos, the scent of Cinnabon, a terrible idea involving tequila at 10 a.m. But there’s also movement. Everyone here is going somewhere.

And maybe that’s the magic, the airport doesn’t ask you to be anything but in motion. It’s the last stop before the next unknown.

We move, despite the storms we carry, despite the weight that doesn’t fit in the overhead bin. We believe in the act of going. And so we go, ticket in hand, heart half full, suspended between the life we know and whatever’s next.

The airport will never meet the same version of you twice.

And nobody belongs here,

which is exactly why it works.

In between two worlds you will find an invitation to something different. But first, you have to book the ticket with the idea that you belong everywhere.

Written to “Dots On A Map” by Say Hi.