The Airport

by Michael Deery

I like to think that my life before going to the airport was pretty normal. Everything had its place, and I went through life with no muggings or robberies of any kind. That all changed when I went to the airport.

Everyone has seen those headlines; Man, 39, Murdered! And after reading those, everyone always thinks, “Wow. I sure am glad that it wasn’t me!” But, you know, no one ever actually can picture themselves dying. They never actually think it could happen to them until it does. I’m guilty of that too. I never believed that someone could mean me that much harm until I went to the airport.

On that day, my family had to catch a plane to Florida, to visit my grandmother. Our party included my little brother, my mom, my dad, and me. While everyone else was waiting for the plane, I discovered needed to go to the bathroom. That’s where it all started. I was a little nervous to go to the bathroom by myself, but I figured there were enough other people there that you’d have to be an idiot to try something.

I was waiting in line when it happened. A man ran in to the bathroom, holding a gun. I was so surprised that I just barely managed to hear him scream, “EVERYBODY DOWN!” I dropped to the tiles immediately.

I was no hero. I was just a kid. There were plenty of adults around to take care of this. Right? I looked around carefully.

No one else was doing anything. But they had to! I couldn’t do anything! The guy with the gun was pulling stuff out of his big coat now. It looked like bombs. Bombs! He was going to bomb the whole place!

I kept waiting for the adults to do something. That’s I realized that they were just going to lay here and hope that they lived. This didn’t make sense. The guy could only shoot one of us, and then everyone else would be on him! I thought about that. These grown-ups all wanted to stop him, but none of them wanted to be the first one up. They were all waiting, just like me, for someone else to do something about this. It was always someone else. No one wanted to have their face on the newspaper; “Man, 25, Murdered!”

These adults were going to just lay here and let this guy plant enough bombs to blow up the entire state, when only one person had to be shot! Then I started thinking, if not me, then who? My mom? My dad? My brother? This guy lying next to me? Who? The guy was almost finished. Soon everyone in the airport would die, just because of us, here in the men’s bathroom. The guy finished. He lit a match.

If not me, then who?

I stood up.

“Boy, 12, Murdered!”

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