The Warp Zone

The Denver Airport is bigger than your mom

Travel is not real life. The airport is a strange, different world. A place somehow partitioned from reality. Beyond the veil of security and the exorbitant price of admission lies the duty free shop, where you're insulated from the government. There are candy shops, coffee shops , and bars where (at least it seems) you are absolved from the guilt and consequence of the real...it's travel.

It's a gateway, or a path to everywhere...while being nowhere itself. A place difficult to reach, different from anywhere else on earth. An world that requires sacrifice to enter. Dump out that drink, and take off your shoes...perhaps even get your your sausage massaged by a uniformed official – It's like a sovereign nation with its own laws and customs. You can get nearly anything in there past the metal detectors and the surly TSA agents. You can go almost anywhere, at break-neck speeds that would give the Key Maker travel-envy.

Warp zone. Like a Boss.

It's the real life warp-zone. A nether region, where the rules are different than in this place, but which connects us to the parts of reality beyond our sight. Instead of 8-bit pipes there's the security line, and the airliner as conduits between reality and the state of flux within the warp zone.

The terminal to everywhere...is nowhere.

It's a cheat code to run roughshod all over the planet. A work-around for the laws of time and distance our species was born with. Like in The MatrixReloaded, It's a place where no stair can reach and no elevator can go. It's a corridor, separate from our world, where there are many doors. Doors that will take us anywhere we wish to go. Back door program exits that let us move into and out of any part of the world to which it's connected, via giant aluminum tubes powered by kerosene and the principles of fluid dynamics.

 We're left with one question. Just one, ever present, unsatisfiable query. Where do you want to go?

--This post brought to you by caffeine, chocolate, sugar, an Airbus 320, the letter B, and the number 5.