Traveling Through Empty Airports
It was March 13th, the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. At this point in time, several countries were experiencing the horrors of the disease due to an outbreak. Italy,…
It was March 13th, the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic. At this point in time, several countries were experiencing the horrors of the disease due to an outbreak. Italy, Iran, South Korea to name a few. The rest of the world was watching and waiting.
Months prior, I booked a flight from Sydney to San Francisco to attend my mother’s wedding in Florida. The days leading up to departure were days of anxiety, uncertainty and fear. We knew that the novel coronavirus had already arrived in Sydney, there were many cases but plenty of public confidence that we could keep it under control. Still, I decided to wear my mask as I transited from the Northern Beaches to the airplane gate after a fraught few days deciding whether or not to go.
The security agent at the airport complimented my mask (a reusable N95 Vogmask purchased during the devastating bushfires earlier in the year). He seemed sincere and jolly as he inquired about my travel, asked me to tell my mother congratulations, that she was a lucky woman.
The airport itself was incredibly quiet, I was often the only person in the area I was in. The airline lounge still left food at the buffet out while staff roamed, looking to serve in the usual way. But no one was around.
At every turn, I was wiping surfaces with alcohol prep pads, something I already traveled with but previously only used as part of a small travel medical kit. Now my surroundings constantly smelled like a doctor’s surgery. Many people gave me strange looks as I methodically used the tiny wipes to make my area germ free, all while wearing a mask. Moreover, I was one of very few wearing a mask at this stage. I wouldn't stop these strange actions until I was comfortably seated on the plane, having done the same thing to my entire seat area.
My flight to the US was unrestful and filled with stress-fueled dreams of infection. The Uber ride from the airport to my cousin’s place was tense in the same fashion, the driver rarely speaking and not touching any of my things. I wore my mask the entire ride as well as my leather gloves. It was far too warm a day for either item but fear won out.
The proceeding days feel somewhat like a dream now, as I look back. The three of us (my cousin, her husband, and myself) lived a life in quarantine on repeat, inevitably ending with depressing news in the evening of the virus spread in the US. In the span of 4 days, countless countries had closed their borders to one another.
The days were etched with constantly reading updates, calculating trajectories for both California and Florida, and terrified text exchanges with my partner in Sydney. We knew we would eventually need to act, but we didn’t know when and in what fashion.
To ease the stress, my cousin and I went into San Francisco — Just to drive around, we said. In actuality, we decided to wander Hayes Valley for a little bit, just to enjoy a sense of normalcy. We only wandered for 30 minutes but in that span of time, still managed to scare ourselves from thinking about possible exposure. We didn’t get out of the car for the rest of the adventure.
By the time Australia announced their intention to require visitors to self-isolate, I had my first panic attack for fear that I would not be able to return home. As these were the first signs of an intention to prevent overseas visitors, I decided to return home. At this point in time, I was still on a temporary visa. We observed that the border closures to South Korea and China allowed only permanent residents and citizens to return; I was not included in that list. I knew I had to act quickly and decisively. I booked a one-way flight back for the following evening, at great expense.
The return flight was wildly different than the outbound flight. The airport itself had less than half of what I would assume is it’s normal traffic on a Sunday evening. Many were now wearing masks. There were signs of distrust and uneasiness from all. One cough from a nearby person led to suspicious glances and people physically moving away. Where my mask was out of place before, it was surely an enviable accessory now.
The airline lounge now was practically empty. Entire sections were shut, and staff walked around offering food from carefully protected jars, all while wearing masks and gloves.
I boarded the flight (after many upset messages to my partner about various passenger’s lack of hygiene) and commenced the same cleaning ritual, one last time.
Thankfully, I was able to sleep. The flight was only 25% occupied, with entire rows empty. Which was lucky, because as it later turned out, two people on the flight were reported to have the disease by the Australian government.
As we exited the plane, there were government officials in hazmat suits to provide us with a paper explaining our expected behavior during our 14-day self-isolation. Arriving into Sydney it was chaos and masks. Everyone clearly trying to return home as soon as possible and, like myself, all trying to protect themselves with personal protective equipment. All passengers were required to declare, and while I was asked to undergo more extensive screening than usual, I was able to exit quickly.
I’ve never been so relieved to return to a country that has only recently become home. Within days, my temporary visa was converted to a permanent resident visa and within weeks, the border was decisively shut. By the time the Australian government announced the closing of the border, I would not have been able to return home in time. Today, there are many temporary residents stuck in other countries in a state of limbo. While much of the country is now in lockdown as we await our fate in the crisis, I’m just happy to be back and healthy.
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