Afterlife Airport

To say I’m freaking out would be an understatement. When I was in sixth grade, mum made me go to my first sleep over without Mr Snuggles. That was a freak out. When I was seventeen, I took dad’s new Mercedes out for a spin and crashed it. That was a freak out. This? This is the colossal wave of freak-outs. This is flunk-all-your-classes-and-lose-your-scholarship level freak out. This is… I don’t even know what this is, but I’m pretty sure I’m dying. In fact, and I know I’m getting borderline dramatic here, but I am actually sure I’ve literally died. I blink at the screens above me and blink again. The writing doesn’t change.  

You see what I mean about being sure I’ve died, right? Because even this geography flunk knows she’s never seen Heaven or the Spirit World on a map before. I don’t even want to guess at what Reincarnation Base is. But there they are. Right through the massive glass windows lining the entire back wall of the airport, I see three planes. Across the planes body is Afterlife Flights painted in swirling sky blue letters. There are two lines of eager passengers, all of which apparently don’t need luggage where they’re going.

That was the first thing that tripped me out in this airport, the lack of luggage. Usually, airports are all about dodging overstuffed backpacks and weaving through wheeling suitcases. Here, it’s evident we’re all going somewhere but nobody is packed for the trip. Even the people filling the cafeteria tables aren’t charging laptops last minute, or resting with earphones in. There are no announcements calling late passengers to their gate. The lines at the café move shockingly fast and, despite how spotless the place is, I don’t see any janitors pushing through the crowds. I note the soft, harmonic music playing throughout out the space and the steady flow of calm, but excited conversation.

“Ugh, where the hell am I?” I groan aloud.

“Well, dear,” there’s a serene voice behind me, “you’re at the Afterlife Airport.”

I whip around to find an airflight hostess in a pristine sky-blue dress and blazer. The scarf tied around her neck is iridescent. Every time the light hits it a kaleidoscope of colour reflects.

“Who the hell are you?” It comes out weaker than I intend. The air strangles out of my throat like a gasp, like I’m crying. Maybe I am crying. Oh god, do not cry.

“Please,” she flinches, “we really don’t like that word around here.” She brushes off her skirt as if she could simply dust off the profanity. Then, with the falsified energy and blinding smile of a game show host, she announces: “My name is Narine, I will be your guide while you select an Afterlife.”

“You- I. What?” Is this lady okay? Should I get a security guard? I glance desperately around the bustling airport, but there are no security guards in sight. Since when don’t airports have security? I step away, only to bump into a man clutching a boarding pass. We mumble apologies. I’m desperate to not have to turn back to this airflight hostess so I watch the man instead. He walks right up to Gate 6 like a Hollywood knight paces towards their Queen. Such purpose. Such quiet confidence. Like he knows, deep in his heart, that Gate 6 is exactly where he needs to be. Looking at him, the way he proudly hands his boarding pass over for inspection and… literally walks through the gate and into the friggen light? Oh god. The light thing was excessive, but I can’t really deny it now. “This is the afterlife.” I blurt. And it’s worse than any cheesy movie I’ve ever seen. Why did the gate literally have to glow with some holy light when he walked through? I mean, what is that?

“Well, not the actual afterlife, dear.” The woman straightens up behind me, clearing her throat.  “Elisa Nora, welcome to The Afterlife Airport, the first step in your next adventure—" I spin on her.

“Woah woah,” I hold up both hands, stepping back. ‘Hang on, lady. You can’t just come up to a person having a major freak out and then like, I don’t know, use my name and start talking about,” I make air quotations, “the afterlife. I mean… pfft. No.” I step back again, ‘no that’s not... no.’

“I understand.” She nods like she’s been through this many times before. “Perhaps I should start with an explanation?”

“Yes!” I’m completely relieved. “Oh my gosh. Okay. I knew there had to be an explanation.” I shake out the nerves that have been suffocating me. “Okay, let me have it.”

“I suppose the most important thing to know first is that all religions are real. They work off of a belief system, you see. In that, when a large number of people believe in the same Gods and afterlife, those things are willed into existence. This,” she gestures to the space around us in a spinning sweep, “is the Afterlife Airport. A kind of halfway point between each person and their... final destination, if you will.”

She pauses, knowing I need a moment to let that sink it. I want to freak out. I want to deny that any of this is real. But, honestly, this weird wave of calm is starting to settle in. This sense of… acceptance.

“Wha- what is this… feeling?”

“We call it The Peace.’ she explains. ‘As in, when you die you are at peace. Those who enter the Afterlife Airport slowly settle into The Peace. It helps everyone move on.”

“Move on? To where?”

“Well, to the afterlife of your choice of course.”

This is too much. “What does that even mean? The afterlife of my choice? I can just go anywhere I want now? Can I spend my afterlife in Hawaii? Or can I make up some fairy tale land?” Oh... oh wait. My heart lifts. “Oh my god, can I go live inside the Harry Potter world? Can I be one of Hogwarts’ ghosts?” She laughs like I’ve said something completely hilarious and not made a genuine inquiry.

“Oh dear, no. Again, the whole system works on belief. Mass amounts of people have to dedicate their life to believing in something for it to be brought into existence. This means you can go to any afterlife as described by any religion. Heaven and reincarnation are our most popular choices.”

I try to ignore the fact that she’s speaking as if I’m selecting a holiday location from a brochure and not my… what did she say? Final destination? You really shouldn’t reference a horror film when trying to guide people toward their peaceful afterlife. Maybe there’s a customer experience team I could complain to. I look back to the flight screens. Then the plane. The line is still there, moving slowly, each passenger shuffling forward every few seconds, happily chatting to each other about their impending adventure.

“What is Reincarnation Base?”

“Well.” She smiles again, clearly happy I’ve chosen to accept this. “Reincarnation is a complicated process. There’s the whole ordeal of deciding what you’ll come back as, and then the process of turning you into that being. Then, of course, safely transporting each soul back earth. The airport is not equipped to safely handle that whole process, nor is it built to suit different religions beliefs on how reincarnation works. Therefore, we have a base set up especially for those wishing to be reincarnated.” She reaches into her blazer. “If you’d like to know more, we have a detailed brochure.”

Ha! Oh my god she literally handed me a brochure. I’m in the Afterlife Airport reading a brochure titled… YOLO? Think again. What? I hold it up like an accusation.

“Okay, who is on the afterlife marketing team, because we need to have words.”

“I understand it is all a lot to take in.” She continues as if I’ve said nothing. “That is why I am here to help. However,” she fusses, dusting invisible lint off her skirt. “I must tell you; I can only assist you for a short while and if you do not select an afterlife, this airport, lovely as it may be, quickly becomes a kind of purgatory.”

I take in the seating area she subtly nodded towards. The people sitting there look like drained out travellers. Waiting for a delayed flight that never comes.

“But,” I begin, “I’ve always been agnostic. Now, if I don’t commit to a religion, I’ll spend my existence suffering?”

“No, not at all. Having been religious in your life is by no means a requirement of entry to these afterlives. They already exist because of religion; you simply hop on a plane and arrive. However, your decision is final. We have no return flights.”

This is hard. I’ve never believed in any kind of God, so the thought of going to a place presumably filled with people who do believe in God… It’s hard to imagine how I’d fit. And I don’t know enough about different religions to even know my options.

“What kind of places can I go to?”

“Oh!” She perks up, eager to list all their wonderful destinations. I sense another brochure coming. “We have Heaven, of course. Typically believed in by Christians. There is also the Spirit World, a place where it is believed the soul continues to evolve. In this place you will take your consciousness with you and have the ability to interact with those on Earth in subtle ways.”

I’m shocked. “So, ghosts really do exist?”

“Oh yes. We do our best to screen out the ah,” she drops to a whisper, “bad seeds, you know. However, sometimes the odd evil one will pass through and cause a spot of trouble.” She straightens up and dusts off her immaculate skirt again, brushing over the topic. I decide not to press as she continues.

“If you choose to follow Muslim faith then we can send your soul on to Allah to await judgment day. Beyond that there is of course reincarnation. If you read YOLO? Think Again,” she references the brochure title with a completely straight face, “you’ll see people from many faiths often choose reincarnation. Buddhism, Hinduism, and many souls of Jewish faith, as Judaism focuses more on current life rather than the afterlife.”

She levels a calm stare at me. Apparently expecting me to make a decision now that she’s offered all the facts. I am sure there’s more questions to ask. Like how this airport even exists? Surely there aren’t mass amounts of people out there willing this place into existence; somebody has to have created this. And if someone created this, perhaps there is more to religion than I’ve always believed. I look to those drained out travellers. Unable to believe in something and stuck because of it. I can’t join them. The memories from my life are fading but I know who I am. I know I’ve always been a traveller, an adventurer, a dreamer. Maybe this is just the next adventure waiting to happen.

Maybe, if I give life another go, I’ll find new things to believe in and the next time I’m here, this won’t feel like such a hard choice. Maybe I’ll be like that man earlier, striding purposefully towards his gate. Maybe there is a time for questions and a time for faith and I’ve already lived a lifetime full of questions.

So, with my shoulders back, I turn towards Gate 1, Reincarnation Base, and decide to have a little faith.