The last flight to the big grill festival on the coast boards in ten minutes, and pixel Ramón Cordero is still at the far end of the terminal. It is time for a Gate Dash. His passport is in his pocket and his phone already has signal for the next country. At the other end, a giant chuletón is waiting with his name on it.
Between him and Gate 64 lies the busiest terminal on the map: rolling suitcases, runaway luggage carts, wet-floor signs and a pigeon that somehow got inside. Takeaway steaks keep turning up along the way, far too good to leave behind. Run, jump and grab, because the gate will not wait.










