Surrounded by people distracted by the convenient 21st century gadgets and technology, my whole entire focus is on the small three by four picture of my daughter, son, and wife. The picture does not speak a thousand words but instead casts upon me a million emotions that I am forced to bottle up. I have no choice.

The photo was taken two years ago on my daughter’s fourth birthday. My beautiful, caring wife stands with a hand on each of my children’s shoulders looking into the smiling eyes of my precious daughter. The innocent look on her face calms my nerves as I pray to Allah that her innocence remains present as long as possible. My son looks onto both of the smiles of the women of the family with his intuitive eyes that see blue when the sky shows grey. At only eight years old in the picture, he already looked like he had the tools to become a protective, providing young man. Now ten, I just about trust him with nearly all of the little duties I perform as the man of the house. The idea of this comforts me.

If I continue to stare at the encouraging picture, my emotions will surely get the best of me. So I find it in my best interest to stow it away into my brown, hard cased carry on. Placing it into my document holder, it seems to be a good time to obtain my boarding pass and passport just in case I need a source of identification. My boarding pass states all of the essential information needed to take flight. Flight number: B6 464. Departure gate: B41. Time of departure: 10:25 A.M. Seat number: 23A. Name: Talha, Iian. The time on my silver watch shows to be about 9:30, which means it will soon be time to board the Boeing 747 ready for a long five-hour journey. I feel more and more sweat beating down my neck and forehead with every dying minute. The spring Seattle air does little to aid my dripping perspiration and it is as if I have replaced my great-grandfather who had one hundred years before led a hard two month journey across the Syrian Desert in order to find his freedom in Lebanon. And here I am today.

Gate B41 seems to be an overall peaceful gate. The desk attendants dealing with missed flights, overbooking, and problems dealing with the travel for the day actually act pleasant. I sit observing my surroundings remaining transparent to myself but a zoo animal out of my cage to others.

To my right, a family of seven with what seems to be three teenage boys, a teenage girl, and a younger girl converse about pointless nonsense as their mom and dad plan what they will do when they arrive in the city. I should probably begin to plan what I will do when I reach my final destination. The teenage boys reminding me of what my great boy could become distract me. I study each boy looking at each ones’ defining, outward traits and notice that they could lead great lives if given the opportunity. The younger daughter sits with her legs crossed playing with her phone while her older sister braids her long, blonde hair for her. The quiet friendship between them reminds me of my wife and daughter.

To my left, an old couple rest in two chairs holding each other’s hand. The woman lay her tired head on her husband’s shoulder. The content look on their faces showed that nothing could ever bring them down and even if something did, it would all be okay. The idea of this made me glad I had taken the seat next to them.

I pick up my suitcase and head for the bathroom to get alone for a short moment and to clear my head prior to boarding. To my delight, no one is present in the room except for a short, husky man in jeans, a button down shirt, and a fanny pack. The guy obviously is a father traveling with his family. He holds a suitcase just like mine that can contain just about anything the mind can think of. With a joyful grin, the quirky man says, “Seems like everyone picked today to travel!” I respond with fake enthusiasm, “Unfortunately true!” It really is unfortunate with the circumstances I am under.

Realizing that the plane will board soon, I pick the furthest stall away from the door and go in with my suitcase. Nervously, I take a seat on the toilet and place my piece of luggage on my lap. Fully opening it, edgy chills run through my entire body. Everything is still as it was packed up for me. A bag of toiletries, two shirts, one pair of black pants, a pair of shiny black shoes, and my documents holder containing one-thousand dollars surround and cover a laptop. I wish that the laptop belonged to me and that I put it there. I have no idea what this seemingly simple machine is capable of. The only thing I know is that if I happen to take this computer out of my carry on and commercial airline flight number B6 464 makes it to New York City safely, people of higher power would have my family killed.

I exit the stall and go over to wash my hands. I press cold water to my face washing the dirt and sweat built up from the day. Looking into the mirror, I view a man scared and nervous, as any other person would be in this horrible situation. For one last time, I pull out the picture and stare at it. I leave the bathroom and now stand in the doorway to observe that the gate to my left had gained even more innocent people. The mighty glare from the morning sky beams in through the window emitting a heavy spotlight only on me. I have two options. Turn left and head toward the terminal to board, saving the ones that I love so dearly, or turn right and run, saving the lives of close to five hundred strangers.