Planes are flying again, but are passengers?
© Joyce McGreevy

An Air Traveler’s Diary in the Pandemic

 I love flying. As a pilot’s daughter, I’ve always felt at home in the sky. But airline travel in a pandemic? Opening my travel diary, I scrawl something I’ve never felt before: I dread the airport.

Ballyshane, Ireland

When the world went into lockdown, I was pet-sitting in Ireland. I had a guest cottage, the solitude writers crave, and nature’s beauty. Who’d leave that to fly on a wing and a dare?

But I missed my family, which had grown by three since I’d left the U.S.

It was time to return.

**

Before COVID-19, planning travel between countries was as easy as when Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz clicked her ruby-shod heels together. A few taps on an app and you were good to go.

But as travel restrictions spread globally, the number of flights per day plummeted—an 84% decrease in Europe alone. In North America, falloff was even greater. By April, some airlines were flying 97% fewer passengers than usual.

By April, Irish air travel had collapsed 90 percent due to COVID-19 restrictions.
© Joyce McGreevy

Ready for Takeoff?

Hey, that was easy, I think after booking two nonstop flights from Ireland to Oregon. Two cancellations and several phone calls later, I face four flights, five airports, four bus rides, and two hotel stays.

**

Cork, Hour 1

Ireland’s national bus system leaves nothing to chance.  The 60-seat bus to Dublin Airport has room for just 14. All other seats have been blocked off.

Bus passengers are seated one per row, every other row.
© Joyce McGreevy

Meanwhile, there’s bad news for riders collecting loved ones at the airport. Air travelers arriving from other countries, citizens or not, are prohibited from taking the bus until they’ve self-quarantined.

“They must go straight home and stay home for 14 days,” stresses the driver.

“But how will they get there?” asks a passenger.

Good question.

Dublin, Hour 8

Reduced schedules necessitate arriving the day before my flight. At Dublin Airport there are no people, no shuttles. To access the hotel, I walk across six lanes of highway. There are no cars.

But all is not post-apocalyptic.

Amid the industrial landscape, a meadow blooms and so does an “Oh, I see” moment: Even when the destination is what drives you, there will be moments to appreciate along the way.

Flowers outnumber flyers at the once-busy airport.
© Joyce McGreevy

From habit, I check in three hours early. After clearing multiple security checkpoints, this leaves . . . about three hours to wait.

At Dublin Airport, kiosks stand idle.
© Joyce McGreevy

How strange to board a spacious airbus with only a few others. My nearest fellow passenger is seven rows and two aisles away.  Stranger still not to hear the multilingual murmur of global travelers.

I assume the Aer Lingus crew will treat us warily, but they’re cordial as always.

“We’re thrilled to be working again,” says the flight supervisor.

Between Irish hospitality and the blue horizon, eight hours in the air pass quickly.

Chicago, Hour 33

At O’Hare a customs officer questions me about a list of “forbidden” countries. Have I visited Iran? Iraq? What about China?

“No, but I’d like to someday” turns out not to be the correct answer.

“Ma’am, just say yes or no.”

People with the Center for Disease Control ask me similar questions, take my temperature, and send me on my way.

“That’s it?” I ask, relieved and alarmed all at once.

“That’s it.”

**

In Chicago, where I once lived, I call a friend and we muse about the strangeness of not meeting up.

“How many flights do you have left?”

“One more—”

“That’s good.”

“—today, that is. Two more tomorrow.”

“Yikes. Thank goodness they’re practically empty.”

“Yes, United’s blocking seats.”

“All the middle seats, right?”

**

On the flight to Los Angeles, United blocks a total of two seats. The crew passes out boxes of snacks “pre-wrapped for safety.”  Many passengers then spend the flight with masks dangling under chins, chomping vigorously.

With gratitude for inflight HEPA filters, I add layers of protective gear: goggles, mask, latex gloves, headphones, voluminous shawl. By the time the packed flight lumbers into the air, I look like a mannequin that has been fabric-wrapped by Christo and Jeanne-Claude.

Normally, my cure for anxiety is deep breathing. Under the circumstances, I opt for non-respiratory therapy—gazing at calming images on my phone:

Keep calm and carry on photos: focusing on Irish pet-sit pals, Molly and Rosie.
© Joyce McGreevy

This works until the captain mentions that our plane has 367,000 working parts, which he plans to “drive like a rental car.”

I land at LAX one hour early and many decades older.

Los Angeles, Hour 42

That night I fill my travel diary with reasons to be grateful:

• My suitcase is still with me.
• I know the friendly hotel staff from previous stays.
• The takeout food  actually tastes like food.

But that isn’t all.

Everywhere I’ve been—from bus seat to airplane cabin, from hotel bedrooms, with their countless contact points, to airport restrooms with innumerable surfaces—everything has been thoroughly disinfected.

That cleanliness hasn’t happened by magic.

Every day despite the pandemic, someone’s mother or father wakes in the dark, commutes long distances, and works hard to keep public spaces safe.

Then it hits me, in a blinding flash of the obvious: A smile, a thank you, a tip is not enough.  To live a healthy life while maintaining the health of others, essential workers need living wages.

Seattle, Hour 54

Next morning I fly north, then backtrack south. Despite fewer flights, LAX and SEA-TAC look surprisingly busy.

Alaska Airlines sets a high standard for safety, limiting ticket sales and spacing passengers apart. Their terminal alone provides ample visual and verbal reminders to maintain social distance.

Floor markers prevent packed lines.
© Joyce McGreevy

This is no small thing. In all four U.S airports, wherever cues are lacking, travelers fall back into old habits.

In Seattle, for instance, food stands have been painstakingly modified for safety, but not communal tables. So while a few diners seek out isolated areas, most cluster together.  When you’re tired or distracted, it’s easy to forget.

Enjoying the view of Oregon’s Cascade Mountain Range.
© Joyce McGreevy

Bend, Oregon

Three weeks later, my sister Erin and I hike forested trails in brisk mountain air. After months of living on the Irish coast, I’m acclimating to high-altitude breathing.

Will I travel by air again? Absolutely . . . someday. For now, moving into an apartment near family—after five years of living out of a suitcase—is all the travel adventure I need.

**

If you’re flying soon, try these tips:

• Be flexible. With passenger numbers low, itinerary changes are more common. Example: You book a 2pm nonstop, which gets cancelled, and the airline re-books you on connecting flights with a 7am departure. Request more options or a refund, but know that all airlines’ schedules are in flux.
• Stay current. The TSA allows up to 12 ounces of liquid hand sanitizer per passenger in carry-on bags.
• Be self-regulating. Only one stop on my itinerary  modified the use of elevators for social distancing. Elsewhere, customers crammed into elevators, onto escalators, and other areas without signage. Be attentive and take your time.
• Seat yourself. With fewer flights, some airlines are packing, not blocking, seats. Most economy sections feature a few rows with two seats only, including the roomier bulkhead. Some carriers  offer single-seat rows. For more space, make a modest bid to upgrade. With fewer passengers competing, your chances of success are good.
• Keep a travel diary. At a minimum, use your phone or tablet to organize a digital file of important information on flights, insurance, hotel, and ground transportation.
• Notice positives. The best stress reducer is acknowledging the essential workers who are doing their best to ensure your travel goes smoothly—even as they are impacted by the weaker economy and pandemic-related changes to airport procedures. They, too, are traveling on a wing and a dare.
  

  © Joyce McGreevy

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