Silence in the departure hall

The loudness of jewel fades like a dream as I travel alone up the lift into the departure hall. The deafening colourful waterfall, crowds of people waving goodbye with too little time to tell each of them how much they mean, they all remain submerged as I break the surface. Alone. Tears that have streaked out to destroy my mask retreated for there is no luxury of time to entertain them now that I must do this alone.

The lights are half dimmed like a shop before opening hours. There is too much space between everything. It is all quiet and I wonder if people are actually departing at all. Passport with its cowlick of plane tickets in hand I went into the hall. A hundred plus dollar poorer, but at least luggage is no longer an issue. Everything has been cordoned off, and that is where I first see these middle aged Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) donning guardians everywhere. They sit in twos, chatting to each other in boredom, then jump to their feet at my approach and point the route in this newly configured foreign looking airport.

I am walking in a apocalyptic ghost town perhaps, not the best airport in the world. There was a silence from the depth of the halls that reach out to drown me, only broken by the periodic high pitched beep of some machine. I must be listening to the sounds of a heart monitor in a hospital. It is a special kind of loneliness to stare into the abyss and see it stare back, especially when it is the darkness of the cosmetic and duty free shops that used to line the ways to the gates with billboard worthy glamour.

More PPE wearing guardians sit around in a bit of a daze, idle in a manner that says “this is the quietest this town has ever been in my long years here”. They stare at me as though I am holding the camera moving through a movie scene. I stare at them exactly how I think I look like staring at their blue gowns and tight masks and clone-like replication of plague uniforms and grim expressions.

I sit down in a section with dimmed lights, listening to the heart monitor machine of this lonely airport more sickly than I’ve ever seen it. The sounds of jewel come back in this silence, and I think about the people who took hours just to come here and back. How little time have I given them in exchange for such a trip! Tears come easy now, and I try not to destroy my mask in the hours I have to get through alone, in the lonely silence of departure halls.