The sound of plane engines would have normally drowned out the sound of everything else in the cabin, but that sound was being masked by the two ear buds resting in Murphy's left and right ear. They were black. The two cords, one from each bud, hung down and connected near the bottom of his chest. The cord then traced back down to the Android phone that was tucked away in his right front pocket. The music playing from the ear buds was rap music. That was the kind of music that Murphy was into. Rap. The volume was turned up just high enough for the people sitting beside him to barely hear it. The light tones of Kanye West had irritated Murphy's surrounding passengers shortly after they had ascended from the Orlando International Airport. But no one said anything to Murphy. The two passengers, one on either side of Murphy, had spent most of the flight examining articles and texts on their phone. To his right there sat a business man. Throughout the entire boarding process the business man had been relaxed. Then, just shortly after take off, a text caused his phone to vibrate. From that point on the business man had small amounts of sweat forming around the top of his brow, as well as he had begun to shift around constantly. Something had obviously agitated him. The man on Murphy's left was foreign, or at least looked that way at first. The man was dressed as a tourist. The tourist was taller than Murphy and Asian, as well as pretty thin. At first, Murphy assumed the man did not speak English, so he played his music louder. Then the man shot him a couple of looks. About mid flight, the man ordered a drink from a stewardess, and did so in perfect, non broken, English. Murphy caught most of the exchange and felt a little bit like a racist afterwards, but he brushed on. 

The flight had been a long one. A few hours packed in close with strangers also did not help. Before the flight had ended, Murphy had himself become agitated, but was not shifting around as much as the business man. When the flight finally did come to an end, with the plane making a hasty touchdown in Minnesota, Murphy breathed a sigh of relief. There had been a little bit of turbulence on the flight but it had not been too rough. The plane came to a halt at one of the gates. Just a few hours ago Murphy was standing in sunny and hot Florida, now he was standing in rainy Minnesota. It was May, so it was warmer and there was no snow on the ground. But it was still raining. Once the seat belt light went off, Murphy unbuckled his and slid past the tourist to get into the aisle. The tourist shot him a glare as Murphy stumbled past. The music was still playing in his ear. The rugged brown carry-on bag was the only thing that Murphy took with him. Inside it had a change of clothes and some essentials. After lifting the cover that was over the above head storage compartment, Murphy pulled his bag out. It had gotten somewhat stuck and as Murphy yanked it out, he almost struck a woman in the head with it. Murphy quickly pulled one ear bug out and apologized, she just scoffed. 

The exit process took about ten minutes, but finally Murphy was in the airport. In his left pocket, the note rested. It was folded into four parts and tucked away. Murphy retrieved it. 

"Terminal Under Construction. Noon."

The time was twenty minutes to twelve. He had just enough time to locate the terminal. The airport itself was busy, severely busy. There had to be thousands of people inside of it, or at least that is how Murphy felt. No doubt they were coming and going from vacation. After proceeding down away from the gate and bumping into various people, Murphy finally spotted the terminal that was under construction. There were no construction workers working and no security guards watching it. People passed by it as if it did not exist. But Murphy kept a watchful eye on it, looking to see if anyone was coming out from the terminal. After five minutes of no movement inside of the construction zone, Murphy decided it was best to enter. He pushed past the construction tape and moved the hanging tarp aside. Once Murphy was behind the big black tarp, he was not visible to the general public. The terminal that was under construction looked completely normal, there was not a single sign of construction. It was just a series of hallways, doors, and empty stands. At the end there was a gate, one single gate. Murphy made his way down to the gate. It was like a ghost town in there. It was now ten minutes to noon. There was a nearby bench. Murphy placed his bag on one seat and then sat down next to it. He put the ear bud back in and laid his head back to rest. Ten minutes to go. The anticipation was killing him. At this point Murphy began to wonder.

Did I make a mistake?