One Man's Exodus, A World's Destiny
Bored.
Sitting at the airport terminal, the mustached young man impatiently waited for his flight, with only one other thought running through his mind: This was to be the last day that he would spend in his home country. In three—no, two!—minutes, the youth was to step into a completely new world, one on tense terms with his homeland.
What did this matter? Little. Opportunity was abound in the new land, and the man reminded himself that the new land would be a new, pleasant experience, one with a different military academy. Taking a quick look to the east, he remembered his old hometown. All the memories of growing up and the splendors of living in the small town were coming back. He couldn't wait to write back to his parents and friends. …And he still hadn't boarded his flight yet.
Bored—Oh!
His flight was boarding, as evidenced by the chatter of the scores of other travellers. Jumping up, the man grabbed his backpack and walked to the queue beside the gate. A flurry of emotions seized him at this moment, a maelstrom of anxiety, excitement, and maybe a tinge of regret. …But he continued on.
Not one step back. Not one.
The young man had slept for most of the short flight at his window seat, missing the shitty in-flight movie that ended up having technical problems anyway. He awoke to see the runway beneath the plane. He ran his hand through his messy light brown hair, stretched in his seat, and observed the sights of the new country for a while before turning back.
Not that much of a difference compared to the motherland! …Yet.
Over the intercom, the captain of the plane gave permission to rise, and the young man did so. Reaching up and grabbing his backpack, he walked into the aisle and started shuffling along with the other passengers. What would living in this new country be like? His head was beginning to spin from thinking about all the sights that could be seen in this grand city.
After leaving the plane and picking up his luggage, the young man decided to go and buy some lunch. He saw a fast food chain that wasn't exactly common back in the homeland and proceeded to order some chicken. Fond of just about any food, he wolfed down the meal, wiped some sauce off of his mustache, and discarded the garbage in less than five minutes.
Whew.
It wasn't too hot at the airport, but the crowded atmosphere made the young man feel uncomfortably warm. Then again, it seemed to be an idiosyncrasy in his character to prefer the cooler climates back home. Removing his jacket, he slung it over his shoulder and started walking towards a gift shop.
This shit looks pretty interesting. I ought to send some of these little distractions back to the old town.
However, he decided that it would be best to go to report to the military academy as soon as possible. The excited young man, passport in hand, filed into the line under Immigration and waited for his turn. He looked over his passport several times, for part of him still was in disbelief that he had made it this far. Before he knew it, the woman at the desk was impatiently indicating that he was next.
"Sir, your papers?" she coldly sneered to him. "If you don't have your documents, you have to leave the line."
Stupid bitch. Looks like someone's having contractions already.
Undeterred, the young man narrowed his eyes and handed his passport and documents to her.
"And you are Olaf…of Blue Moon?"