Another morning, another domestic hop.
Flight 922, Busan to Seoul. The shortest possible distance to realize I’m both physically present and socially erased. No luggage worth checking, no food worth serving, no one worth noticing me.
I wonder if the anyone even saw me. She hands the boarding pass to the air behind me, and I grab it mid-air like a ghost trying to prove he’s real.
At security, I put my suitcase on the belt and the officer lifts it with one finger, frowning.
He asks if there’s really anything inside. I shrug. It feels like I’m smuggling disappointment.
The officer stops me and asks,
“Sir, where’s your luggage?” I point at the suitcase right in front of him, but he stares through it. Apparently, my suitcase is as invisible as me.
I walk up to the boarding gate, hand over my boarding pass, but the scanner doesn’t beep.
The agent doesn’t notice me.
The guy behind me scans his ticket and walks right past, basically boarding with me. I slip through like a stowaway on my own flight.
The gate agent says, “Sir, you’re not on this flight.” I point at my boarding pass, but she waves me away. Maybe my booking is as empty as my suitcase.
The body scanner doesn’t beep, because even metal detectors can’t detect someone this irrelevant.
Passengers line up. I stand there too, but the scanner doesn’t register my boarding pass. The agent waves me past anyway, maybe out of pity, maybe because they don’t see me.
The PA announces final call, but not for me because technically, I was never listed.
Everyone shoves their carry-ons in the overhead bins. I open mine, and it echoes like a cave just an empty shell waiting for a purpose, exactly like me.
I sit down at 30F, next to nobody. Which makes sense: who would want to sit next to no one?
Legroom is laughable, but luckily being invisible means I can fold myself into dimensions that don’t exist. Too bad the pain in my knees is still very real.
The window view is blocked by the wing, so even when I try to watch something outside, life hands me another “better luck next time.”
I imagine an invisible friend sitting next to me. He ignores me too.
The seat beside me is empty, like my social life. At least I won’t have to fight over the armrest.
I imagine an invisible friend sitting next to me. He ignores me too.
A family two rows up is laughing. My own row looks like the Bermuda triangle of human contact.
This is the legroom of my friends
Its a bit tight for my friends
I didnt know SQ comes here
The plane accelerates, but I feel weightless in a different way: like nothing anchors me to this earth.
My heartbeat syncs with the engines, both loud and unnoticed.
I stare out the window. The clouds ignore me too, drifting away like everyone else.
The captain makes an announcement. My earphones are invisible too, so I don’t hear it.
Everyone else seems to be going somewhere. Me? I’m just here, existing in negative space.
The plane tilts, preparing to land. I imagine the announcement: “Ladies and gentlemen, and Nykeeo.” But of course, they just skip that part.
The empty suitcase in the overhead bin shifts. It’s a perfect soundtrack: hollow, clattering, unnecessary.
We finally touch the ground
I cant wait to hang out with my imaginary friends
Everyone look so busy with their life , I stand up and pretend to have a life too
Seoul is
