Post-It Chronicles, #13:

Jones asked for a cola, and then all hell broke loose. Suddenly the airport was full of a thundering, throbbing type of sound I had never heard before. It seemed as if we were inside the sound, like a giant monster had swallowed the world whole. People started running like they were on fire, dogs in carriers started barking and clawing to get free, and a flock of seagulls had somehow gotten into the terminal and were flying in large circles, splatter-painting the crowd below with their familiar white and green spots. Later, it would occur to me to wonder how the birds had gotten in, but at the moment I was more concerned with where they had come from – we were in the middle of Kansas – goodness knows how far from the nearest ocean. Jones was shouting that he had just heard machine gun fire from the other end of the terminal when I noticed that the Sound had changed. It was almost musical now, oddly harp-like, but still loud enough to fill the air, jar my guts, and get into my bones. I thought the fillings were going to come out of my teeth, and when I realized I could no longer hear Jones shouting, a huge lion ambled past me toward the food court. I turned to look, wondering what a lion was doing at my gate, and found I was no longer in the terminal, but at a giant set of ivory gates.