This sprawling complex is a major portal nexus between dimensions within
the Gri'x and beyond. The upper balcony at the northeast end is connected to Mall28, while the lower level of that area, the ShadeArcade, leads into a warren of back doors and alleyways in the
Wezzyde. Despite the fact that the Airport belongs squarely in the
Realm of
Line One,
Kentwood refuses to relinquish its claim on the name, and turns consistently surly and kind of pouty whenever anyone brings it up.
On the south and west sides, the long hallways and busy terminals can keep one busy (or lost) for hours. It's sometimes a wonder how anyone catches their plane on time, what with fighting the crowds, playing in the elevators, going through the checkpoints, leaving luggage everywhere, looking for bathrooms and stopping in the cafeteria and gift shops.
The long observation windows in the upper hallways afford a breathtaking view of the
Santa Pez Oseen and the edge of the Cliffs O'Blunder, into which planes crash every five minutes or so.
HISTORY
Once upon a time, intrepid explorer Prattiput Bekkoner, a resident of Kentwood's Uppiter Lofts, determined that her penthouse condo required a helicopter pad.
Bekkoner had spent years seeking a shorter passage to the ground floor, to say nothing of the long, long drive from her parking spot to the end of Uppiter Way, the only point of entrance to or egress from the complex. Together with her loyal chauffeur, Hank, she had penetrated the deepest reaches of the buildings (and, in the process, created one of the most detailed and reliable maps of any Kentwood region in history) only to find that there was simply no way to avoid either the ancient, rattly elevator or all 334 levels of stairs (333 if you don't count the 13th floor) within the boundaries of Uppiter.
Thinking back to the spherical legends of Eratosthenes and Pythagoras, she reasoned that if one direction held too many obstacles, perhaps the opposite direction would prove an easier path. They had tried every way down–why not go up instead?
The helicopter was delivered on a sunny Thursday morning. The previous afternoon, Bekkoner's young nephew, Platte, had earned himself a Big Green Dollah by setting up a few cheery signal lights and painting a landing pad symbol on the roof above her breakfast nook. Hank had studied the pilot's manual diligently. Neighbors had come from blocks away and every member of the Uppiter Tenants' Klatsch was gathered in the street, or hanging out their windows, to witness the event. Celebrants sang and blew little horns and tossed several tons of confetti into the air; protesters chanted and raised their fists and swore vengeance. It was, in fact, the largest outdoor gathering of residents in Kentwood's entire recorded history.
Prattiput and Hank stepped onto the street, waved to the raucous crowd, and boarded the helicopter. The engine roared to life and the propellers whirled. They rose into the air as Miss Bellificent's 6th-grade band class broke into a ska version of "Up, Up, and Away (in My Beautiful Pontoon)".
The intent was to go from the street to the roof, where they would land and then nip back inside for poached eggs and toast and maybe a little lie-down before taking off again to run a few errands and attend a sale at Sole Saverz Shoe Shack.
As they rose past the windows of the 219th floor, however, a blip appeared on the radar, quickly moving toward their position. At the 299th floor, a DC-9 Propliner came barreling out of the skies. Hank's chauffeurly instincts kicked in immediately and he performed several evasive maneuvers (much to the delight of the audience, who threw a few more tons of confetti and/or shook their fists even harder, while little Rendella Blum launched into an impromptu trumpet solo that would earn her the life-long nickname "Toots").
While Hank piloted the helicopter through its graceful loops and spins, Prattiput rolled down her window and shouted to Platt, who was lurking behind the rooftop garden shed smoking cigarettes, to make himself useful and take up the red paint rags. She grabbed the helicopter's hand-held radio and attempted to contact the plane. Through static and background screams, she and the pilot managed to direct the Propliner toward the roof of Uppiter Loft's long, straight Wonknutter Memorial Promenade.
The helicopter hovered in the air as close to the roof as Hank dared, while everyone watched as the plane, its engines smoking, came to a screeching, grinding, clattering, skewed, burnt-rubber-smelling, but ultimately safe, landing on the roof of Uppiter Lofts.
After a few moments of tense silence during which the entire crowd held their breath, the plane's door banged open and fifty-eight confused passengers wandered out onto the makeshift tarmac, blinking in the bright Gri'xian haze. Cheers went up, and the band struck up a rousing Sousa march. The building superintendent was on the roof by this time, shouting and frothing, but Prattiput gave him a stern dressing-down and compelled him to open some of the empty units as temporary guest-quarters and maybe bring up some of the complimentary lemonade from the concierge.
The signal lights, radio chatter, freshly-painted landing glyphs, and rumors of free lemonade for survivors began to attract more (perfectly serviceable) aircraft to the Uppiter Lofts. Eventually the Uppiter Tenants' Klatsch, the Kentwood RentGrubbers Union, and the citizens of the Realm in general had to admit that the Uppiter Blocks had become a travelers' nexus, rendering them unsuitable for all but the most sociable (and hearing-impaired) permanent residents. The building was re-christened the Kentwood Interdimensional Airport, and though it quickly thereafter slid into the Realm of Line One, the name has stuck.
Prattiput and Hank eventually did get their poached eggs and toast that day, but the sale at Sole Saverz turned out to be a lot of hyperbolic nonsense over some uninspiring last-season pumps, so they went on a three-month expedition to the Glokken Fjords of
Twis'tangle instead.
Official examination of the Propliner determined that mechanical failure was due to its engines being clogged with confetti.
Comments