Dedicated to Christopher Dickey, who embraced every journey.
“You’re going THERE?”
This was a common response among our Europe-resident friends when we told them we intended to travel to the U.S. this summer. Why would we go to the country that was handling COVID-19 worse than almost any other developed nation? they asked.
We’re experienced travelers, but this was different. Airports are, by definition, enclosed spaces, where the virus can circulate. Airplanes as well. Not to mention taxis, rental cars and other places that put us in contact with people we don’t know.
But the 56-day Paris lockdown we had been through had taught us to protect ourselves. Masks and gloves for grocery shopping. Masks and hand sanitizer for medical appointments. Masks and social distancing when serving a packed lunch to the impoverished at church. Plus, we were going stir-crazy. And we had French passports, so knew we could return.
It’s an issue facing Americans who live abroad and home this summer, and the choice is never easy. A request on Facebook for personal thoughts about travel drew many heartfelt responses.
“A good friend passed away in Atlanta. We so badly wanted to travel to his funeral to tell him goodbye and to be with all of our friends who also loved him dearly. After weighing the health risk for them and us, we decided not to go.” — Paddi Davies, Monmouth, Oregon
We were going to Staunton, Virginia, where we have a house, but Air France had canceled its direct flights to Dulles. We decided to fly to Atlanta and drive from there rather than taking a domestic U.S. connection. We’d seen too many photos on social media of maskless passengers – and flight attendants – to push the envelope.
On the day of our flight, loaded with face shields, masks, disinfecting wipes and gloves, we called a taxi. The very nice driver told us we were his first airport fare in four months.
Only one terminal was operating for international (non-European) flights at Charles de Gaulle. The departures you see listed here are for the whole DAY.
Check-in, which in normal times can take an hour, was a breeze. We did have to punch a screen or two to get our boarding passes, but a quick squeeze of sanitizer took care of germ concern. Every passenger we could see – not to mention the desk and gate personnel – wore a mask.
“We weren’t willing to take the risk of flying without a 14-day quarantine, but we didn’t have time for a 14-day quarantine, so we installed our camping tent on the back of our truck, packed enough food for four days, and drove the 2,200 miles (about 36 hours of driving) from Seattle to Bellaire, Michigan.” — Ben Kershner
Immigration also was a dream. Security, not so much. Charlie and I noted that the concept of social distancing was being enforced in two dimensions, not three: The snaking lines of passengers to get into the screening area were right next to each other, even though lines marked the spots that were supposed to separate you from the person in front of you. The agent managing the line even told us to squeeze closer together.
“I am not willing to risk travel on any public transportation at this time. As a U.S. resident the risks are simply too great. There are too many people who refuse to wear masks and the idea of recirculated air is terrifying. I miss traveling abroad hugely. I just don’t know when I will feel comfortable.” — Jane Culbert, Arlington, Mass.
How strange it was to see many of the elegant designer stores and eateries at Charles de Gaulle closed entirely. This is an airport than in normal times we use at least 10 times a year. Never have we have it almost all to ourselves.
Unlike us, some passengers were interested in shopping for luxury duty-free goods. Note the hazmat suit.
We had read that boarding is the most dangerous part because people pass by each other, breathing.
‘When it came time to board, the Air France rep called for Sky Priority first. But a woman from the airport staff parked herself at lane 5 and insisted that everyone had to get into a single line, and that we would be boarding by row. There went the social distancing as everyone crammed together tighter even than pre-COVID-19.” — Mark Carroll, Paris to Rome
So we put on maximum protection.
The staff didn’t have us board the plane from the back, which would have been the safest, but it was still fairly efficient. All in all, the plane was probably about 30% full. We had splurged on premium economy and made up two of the four passengers in our 40-person cabin. The plane, an Airbus A-350, seemed to leap into the sky on takeoff, it was so light.
“I just flew from Portland, Maine to Washington, D.C., and back in the space of a week. I did it to help a family member in need, I could get nonstop flights, and was getting picked up at airport. I saw no one but my family and went nowhere. I would only do it right now for someone I love who needs help. My flights were both full.” — Joan Everett, Cape Elizabeth, Maine
The international arrivals terminal of the Atlanta airport — in non-pandemic times the busiest in the world — looked like it had been hit by a neutron bomb. The only sound was the loudspeaker urging people to quarantine for 14 days after arrival, with no mention of an enforcement mechanism.
We waited maybe four minutes to get through immigration. In the baggage area there were more security officers than passengers. A rather large fellow in a uniform and bulletproof vest ordered me to delete a photo I had taken but didn’t ask if I had any others on my phone.
After picking up our rental car from a masked employee at the desk and giving it a probably unneeded wipedown, we drove north an hour and stayed with my wonderful cousin Jan and her husband Bob. On arrival, everything we had worn went to a garbage bag and, after showering, we put on clothes we had packed in a gym bag that itself had been inside a suitcase, thus removed from cooties.
Jan not only gave us a wonderful dinner on the screen porch that night but packed us a picnic lunch for the next day.
And all we had to do when we arrived in Virginia was spend 14 days in quarantine, distancing from son Henry and his girlfriend Sarah. They had been sheltering at the house for more than two months rather than take the risk of staying in New York. This routine stopped being fun after about five days and we were able to get a test at the local Urgent Care. Result: Negative.
And the house across the street made us feel welcome, albeit unknowingly, on July 14.
Planted in Paris is a French blog and thus is going on summer holiday. Barring breaking news or brilliant inspiration, it will be back in early September. Stay safe and make wise travel decisions, everyone.
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