As your eyes flutter open to the smell of rubbing alcohol wafting through the air, you realise that you're in an airport lobby. You're not entirely alone, you can see cardboard cutouts of staff and a dancing woman in the corner.

As you look around, a loud authoritarian voice echoes through the speakers. "Flight 3567-B departing," it says. That's definitely not your flight but it's good to know this airport is still in business. Probably.