When I entered into this cage without a lid above us, there were a few lines leading to the scanning machine with the body scanner. A few lines were empty of people, indicating they were out of use for the moment. I followed the lead of the traveler walking in front of me and arrived at a line with several other travelers, waiting in the queue for their turn.

Through the narrow spaces in the crowd, I spotted two short girls preparing for their security check next to the machine. Both of them had long black hair, though one of them had short hair and wore cute, round glasses. They both put their backpacks in front and began getting their things out for security’s scan. As they moved, more people entered the line behind them, waiting to be called. The girls seemed like siblings, with the taller, black-haired one possibly being the eldest. She started pulling out her things: first a laptop, then an iPad, and her earphones. It looked like she was migrating to another country, given the number of essential electronic devices in her backpack. Her sister, standing next to her, mimicked her actions, pulling out a laptop and earphones from her own bag. Her backpack appeared lighter, but whether they were migrating or not didn’t make much of a difference.

The combination of human sweat and the silence from everyone created an atmosphere of anxiety and nervousness in the queue. Although the various heights of the people ahead obscured my view of the girls’ progress, I still managed to observe parts of their behavior.

Once the girls returned to my line of sight, both had removed their jackets and were ready to go through the body scanner. A middle-aged man, wearing a black suit and holding a black briefcase, stood behind them for the body check. He pulled out a tray from the sliding layer formed by the vibrating metal rolls. Suddenly, I felt pressure from behind as my massive backpack pressed against my back. Ohhnnpss… My right foot instinctively stepped out for balance and collided with the silver metal stands. In that moment, I wished not to cause a scene before a safe flight. My heart tightened as the metal stand rattled below me. Curious stares from the crowd added tension to the moment, and I found myself the center of attention. My heart pounded while I focused on the metal stand, stopping it with my foot. After restoring the scene to normalcy, I looked up again to observe the person in front of me.

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Despite the size of my baby-sized backpack, it did not cover the upper part of the body of the tall young man in front of me, who was engrossed in his phone. He was still waiting, seemingly questioning the contents of his own backpack, until the security guard motioned us forward. Time tested my patience as he slowly emptied his bag. Although it was understandable that he packed everything into his backpack to avoid extra luggage fees, it didn’t make the wait any more bearable for me.

As soon as he cleared security, I quickly emptied my own backpack onto the gray tray and hurried through the body scanner. The security guard gestured for me to proceed, and I headed to the tray with my belongings. A sense of nervousness arose as I noticed my tray entering the next queue, where items were questioned on the scanner. I quickly retrieved my backpack and phone, packed everything back, and walked toward the immigration ID scanner.

My heart raced when I heard a woman enter the facial recognition cabinet. My turn had arrived. I took my ID card from inside my passport. The machine quickly devoured my ID card, and the screen above read “checking.” I watched as the woman left the cabinet successfully, meaning it was now my turn. The machine pushed out my ID card, and the gate opened for me. A line on the screen instructed, “Please place your finger on the screen,” which I followed promptly. I felt relieved as the machine processed my fingerprint and the next door opened.

I entered the next cabinet, positioned my face for the camera, and the gate finally opened. I stepped out while holding my boarding pass, passport, and ID card. I slid my left arm between my back and the strap to access the zippers of my backpack, quickly placing my ID card into a small plastic bag before zipping it back up.

As I walked, I noticed that many shops around me were dimly lit, indicating they were closing. A large, three-plate display board caught my attention. My brain instantly began searching for “London Heathrow” with the flight time of 23:00. My sight locked onto flight BC27 and I saw “A12.” My body turned quickly, noticing a sign for Gates B26-B50, but I switched directions upon seeing the A1-A25 sign in white. I walked in that direction, my heavily packed backpack and passport in hand.

The corridor had a travelator beside it, with two white walls standing opposite each other. Large windows framed by silver, shining metal replaced the white walls. My walking journey passed Gates 6 and various shops. Some gates were crowded with people, while others sat as empty and lonely as an old man waiting for his flight. Giant airplanes stood at some gates, waiting for passengers to board.

I continued walking, eventually spotting Gate A9, which my instincts told me was close to my final destination.