# Seol

- Link: https://thewrongkindofready.com/h1n1/
- Published: 2026-10-11T21:00:00-07:00
- Author: Caleb

The woman sitting beside me was Korean.

She had married an Air Force man and now lived in California.

We discovered this somewhere over the Pacific, after the usual questions about where
we were from and where we were going.

“Monterey?”

She nodded.

I laughed. Not sure why.

We talked across the armrest while the flight attendants moved through the cabin.

Food trays appeared.

Plastic cups.

Little bottles.

The woman beside me knew the Korean menu better than I did and explained some of
it as we ate.

Eventually the conversation faded.

I looked out the window.

Below us, clouds stretched to the horizon.

Then the plane began its descent.

~

At the airport, a woman in a mask handed me a form.

I stood at a counter with several other passengers and filled in the boxes.

“Had I been sick?”

“Had I been around anyone who was sick?”

“Did I have a fever?_“_

I signed the bottom.

The woman took the paper and pointed me toward a row of cameras.

I walked beneath them.

The machines watched us pass.

No alarm sounded.

I kept walking.

~

I had several hours before my next flight, so I bought a square donut then found
a seat in the waiting.

The donut was green.

In the next row, a few Korean kids looked up. A television hung overhead—a video
game filled its screen.

StarCraft.

Two players sat at computers somewhere else, while commentators talked rapidly in
Korean.

On the screen, tiny units moved across a map. Buildings appeared. Disappeared. More
units appeared.

The kids watched without speaking.

I watched them watching it.

I knew StarCraft was huge in South Korea. I’d heard about professional players and
televised matches, but this was the first time I’d stumbled into one.

I knew the rules. I’d played the game. Still, I couldn’t follow the movements.

I couldn’t follow the strategy.

I couldn’t follow the commentators.

I stayed anyway.

~

When it was time to board, I checked the flight board.

Then checked it again.

Four large screens stood together, each filled with rows of flights. The listings
changed every few seconds.

I found my flight number.

GATE 123

I followed the signs.

Security.

A long hallway.

Another hallway.

Then a subway.

I got off and walked through another terminal until I found Gate 32.

I sat down.

There was nobody there.

I looked at the gate number again.

32

I looked at my boarding pass.

Then at the empty seats.

I got up and found a customer-service desk.

“Excuse me. Is this the gate for— Oh.”

I gave her my flight number anyway.

She looked at the screen.

“No.”

She pointed behind me.

I had to go back.

Security again.

Subway again.

The first terminal.

Another security checkpoint.

Then the gate.

This time, people were sitting there.

I sat down too.

Fifteen minutes to spare.

~

When boarding began, the line formed almost immediately.

Then it stopped being much of a line.

People moved toward the door from both sides. Someone stepped around me. Another
person slipped into the space in front of me. Families gathered together, boarding
passes in their hands.

I watched the crowd compress around the gate.

I stayed where I was.

Eventually I made it onto the plane.

Inside, the colors changed.

The dark blues and grays of the Korean airport gave way to bright fabrics. Women
in vivid saris moved down the aisle, their clothing catching the cabin lights. Men
wore loose shirts and trousers. Scarves, patterned fabric, embroidered bags.

The seats filled.

The overhead bins slammed shut.

Someone pushed a bag beneath a seat.

Then another.

The cabin door closed.

I sat back.

The air smelled different.

Not the recycled smell of an airplane. Something warmer had followed everyone aboard—
spices, food, perfume.

Curry.

Cardamom.

Something sweet.

The flight attendants moved through the aisle.

The engines changed pitch.

The floor vibrated beneath my feet.

Outside the window, the airport began sliding backward.

Then we lifted off again.

I watched the lights disappear beneath us.

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