Destination Istanbul

Peter emerged from the oddly dark tube that led from the airplane to the arrival gate and was immediately struck by the energy there. But then that always seemed to happen to him when he flew, even when he did it often – hardly unusual for someone who had always considered himself a highly sensitive person.

Each airport was a distinct place all its own, but every last one of them had this in common – that kinetic, near-frantic energy that emanated from nearly everyone who was there. But the sheer length and darkness attached to the walk from the plane before coming out into the bright clamor of the airport this particular time activated some long-dead memory of being born within the depths of Peter’s memory.

He wondered briefly if this was how he had really felt all those years ago when he had been dragged kicking and screaming into the world from the solitude and safety of his mother’s womb.

Peter scanned the airport for a convenient place to sit down, get his bearings, and make sure he had everything in order for the next leg of his journey. Because, honestly, there was nothing in the world quite as frustrating and embarrassing as standing at the departure gate, ready to board, only to realize you’re missing your ticket or your passport.

Finally, Peter saw a little bank of chairs situated by the window overlooking the tarmac. Thankfully, only one person was sitting there – a young girl, possibly still a teenager, with shiny silver jeans and dyed acid-green hair styled into pigtails.

The girl was staring so intently at her phone that her brow was furrowed, so Peter chose to take that as a good sign that she was otherwise engaged and wouldn’t be much of a talker. Good, Peter thought. He’d always been introverted to a fault and loathed small talk under the best of circumstances, but he didn’t see the point of it at all when you were around people you’d likely never see again.

Besides, he’d much rather watch and listen to the planes landing and taking off. Peter had grown up near an airport, so he found the sound of the planes and the ambient smell of jet fuel to be oddly comforting, like a little piece of his childhood.

But unfortunately, Peter’s hopes were dashed on that front. Because the minute he sat down, an entire six seats away from the green-haired girl with the silver pants, her head whipped up from her phone and turned instantly toward Peter. Her eyes lit up, and her face broke into a wide smile just before she got up and moved so that she was now sitting in the seat directly next to him.

Great, thought Peter to himself.

“So, where are you headed?” the girl asked cheerfully, clearly in her element when it came to making airport small talk.

Peter braced himself for the frivolous conversation that was now unavoidable and looked at the girl. Only now that she was right next to him, he saw she really wasn’t a girl at all. The fine lines around her eyes and mouth gave her away as being closer to middle age despite her quirky, youthful fashion choices.

Her eyes and smile were warm and inviting. This was a person who had either never had the misfortune of being made to fear strangers or simply hadn’t let the realities of dealing with one’s fellow man get to her – rare at that age.

“Uh… I think I’m set to wind up somewhere in the Midwest this time,” Peter said, trying to remember exactly what destination had been printed on the ticket he’d found in his pocket just before he’d landed. “I want to say it’s… Nebraska? Somewhere in the country.”

“Oh, how neat. I’ve always wanted to live on a farm, but to the best of my knowledge, I never have,” the girl… woman… answered, truly sounding as if nothing sounded more fun than to live one’s next life raising corn and pigs in Nebraska somewhere. I’m… actually not sure where I’m headed this time. My passport looks different this time, and I’m not entirely sure what that means.”

Peter didn’t even have a chance to politely ask to see the woman’s passport before she was digging for it in the tattered camouflage messenger bag that was apparently serving as her luggage for this trip.

“Ah, here it is,” said the woman, triumphantly holding up a passport with a peculiar mint-green sheen to it along with her boarding pass. “I’m Frankie, by the way.”

“Peter,” said Peter dutifully, now quite intrigued by the passport Frankie had in her hand. It didn’t look a thing like his with its sensible black cover, and he was genuinely curious as to why.

“Looks like I’m headed to… oh wow, Istanbul this time,” Frankie said with genuine excitement in her voice. “I wonder what on earth the universe has planned for me there! I was in San Francisco last time, and that was pretty cool. But I’ve always wanted to live abroad. I guess I’ve always had an adventurer’s spirit.”

Peter found the way Frankie’s eyes lit up when she pictured her potential future life in Istanbul to be truly charming. He tended to be sort of a pessimist, so he knew perfectly well that he’d have stared at his destination with complete dismay. He’d simply have assumed he was destined to be dirt-poor and living on the streets or in squalor somewhere.

“Aren’t you worried you might be destined to die in some war zone, or starve to death on the streets, or something?” Peter asked, genuinely curious as to Frankie’s lack of anxiety at being destined to live her next life someplace so foreign and different from San Francisco.

“I guess I just don’t think like that,” Frankie said casually with a shrug. “I love adventures and traveling, but I didn’t get anywhere near as much opportunity to do that as I would have liked last lifetime. Plus, I freaking love Turkish food.”

Peter nodded soberly, quietly envying Frankie her zest for life – something he’d really never had.

“But, really, there’s nowhere I could have been sent that would have disappointed me,” Frankie continued. “I love life. I love everything about it. And I love new experiences, so I can honestly say there’s been something to love about all of the lives I’ve lived so far.”

Frankie smiled again, the fine lines around her eyes deepening in response. Peter found himself thinking that those lines were beautiful, as they were clear evidence that Frankie had smiled and laughed a lot throughout her last trip down to Earth. In fact, Peter truly believed that Frankie would have been genuinely happy to go to Nebraska and somehow would have turned it into an adventure.

“So, are you excited about Nebraska?” Frankie asked. “Have you been there before? Anything special you hope to do when you get there?”

Peter chuckled nervously, suddenly a bit embarrassed by his complete lack of a sense of adventure. “Um… to tell you the truth, I hadn’t really thought much about it from that angle. I was honestly mostly just relieved to be going someplace… predictable, and not…”

“… Istanbul?” Frankie finished his sentence for him with a mischievous grin. “No worries. I get it. Stepping that far outside one’s comfort zone isn’t for everyone. But… you know, it’s not like you would know you were someplace unfamiliar once you got there. You’d be Turkish, so Istanbul would seem like the most comfortable place in the world to you.”

“This is true,” Peter said. No one remembered their former lifetime once their departing flight to their final destination landed there. They simply completed their trip and prepared to deplane. The next thing they knew, they were literally being born again. A newborn with no memories, fears, or hang-ups. A fresh start.

Suddenly, Peter didn’t understand why Istanbul had sounded so daunting to him when Frankie had first told him. In fact, he felt a pang of slight longing inside of himself. He’d never stepped outside of his comfort zone when he was still alive. He’d never been anywhere exotic, never learned any other languages. To him, “traveling” had always meant driving a couple of hours to see his parents for the holidays, much to his wife’s great dismay.

“You know, they don’t assign these passports and boarding passes to anyone in particular,” Frankie said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, almost as if she’d read Peter’s mind. “They just give them to us. We could trade. No one would ever know, and I sincerely doubt they’d care if they did know. Choice is a big deal in the larger universe.”

Peter’s heart leaped at the idea, surprising him. All of a sudden, he could totally picture himself exploring Istanbul, his soul thoroughly enjoying the experience. Heck, maybe that was what the universe had had in mind for him all along. Maybe he was destined to meet Frankie, have this conversation, and trade passports.

“Here,” Frankie said decisively. “Take it. It’s cool.” She grabbed Peter’s hand from where it rested on the armrest between them and placed her ticket to Istanbul plus the mint-green passport inside it.

Peter admired the way the sheen of the passport cover caught the light from the fluorescents overhead. And there was something about the gentle weight of it that felt truly right as he held it.

“But then you won’t get to go,” Peter said, not wanting to rob Frankie of her big adventure.

“Dude, like I said, I’d be happy to go anywhere,” Frankie said with a smile and a nod. “And I really would like to see Nebraska. Seriously, if I don’t wind up on a farm by chance, you can bet I’m going to buy one at some point.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you,” he said, wholly meaning it and feeling quite glad he’d had this encounter.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said. “Just enjoy your time there. Remember, this is the first day of the rest of your life. What you make of it is up to you.”

Peter nodded again and smiled. How utterly true that was.