[ WP ] You land at a London Airport only to shortly realise that you are not in London but in a country you have never heard of its existence before .

I travel a lot. It's not something that I consciously decided to do with my life. I do n't consider myself a'fan' of airports or planes, I'm not even a huge fan of holidays. 
 
 I just happen to fall for people who live an ocean away. 
 
 I'm landing back home, London. She cried, I did n't. I'm used to coming and going. It makes me feel a little heartless, but I'm not sure if a heartless person would travel so far. There's a bump and a frantic rumble as the plane touches down. The woman across the aisle from me looks terrified, as though the rumbling is the plane struggling to stop as it screams towards some horrifying dead end. But I trust the engineers who built this thing. 
 
 I remain sat and wait for people to stop jamming the middle of the plane before getting up to retrieve my own hand-luggage. Just an old, beaten-up backpack. We file out and people are mostly tired or quietly relieved to be home. I'm firmly in the quietly relieved camp and the sun breaking through the clouds high above the plane reflect this mood. It actually looks pretty hot outside and- 
 
 Oh, something is going on. 
 
 Security looks rustled and they're giving us all a close look as we walk past. I do n't think I've actually landed in this gate before, now that I think about it. I do n't recognise the hall or the carpet. Maybe that's a strange thing to pick up on. 
 
 One of the officers brushes past the people mingling out of the plane and heads inside. I am actually a little bit nervous, but I'm sure that's just an irrational worry. 
 
 The doors ahead are closed and the people leading the pack look confused, this confusion trickles down through the small crowd of homeward bound travellers and soon the waiting area that the hall had lead us to is murmuring with nervous energy. 
 
 The door that lead to this room is closed too, but that's probably because the plane is gone and the hall would lead nowhere. 
 
 I keep to myself and try not to think about what could have gone wrong or what that funky smell is. 
 
 A couple minutes have passed and I'm trying not to get agitated, but I am getting impatient. Someone pushes against the door to see if it opens - it does; But not because he pushed it. 
 
 Some pretty spokeswoman had opened the door from behind. She's flanked by two mean looking dudes and looks a little nervous. Whatever is on her mind is swallowed down when she moves behind the desk towards the back of the room and begins to boot up the computer and sort out odd bits of paper. 
 
 One of the men stands between the desk and the door that would lead back to the plane and I'm thinking that it's about time. One thing I hate about airports is all the waiting. Waiting to go, waiting to come back. We'd arrived at this gate before the staff, now that's just ridiculous. 
 
 Anyway, it's typical that as soon as I'm about ready to complain things get moving again and the pretty woman announces that the plane is boarding, we can form a line with our passports and passes ready. 
 
 I was quite lucky to get a seat closest to the desk so I'm one of the first in line. I present my boarding pass with a smile and have my passport open at the right page just to make things easier for everyone. It does n't take long before I'm on the plane and ready to head home. It's all so routine for me, I travel a lot. 
 
 I must have fallen asleep as soon as I hit the seat of the plane because next thing I know I'm landing back home in London. 
 
 She cried, I did n't. I'm used to coming and going. 
 

