Free Like a Bird in the Big Blue Sky

Pardon my absence for the last several years. I am back now, and travels resume.

Until October of last year, I hadn't took to the air since the Virus Named After the Mexican Beer made its debut into the world. And let me tell you, it was eerie, to say the least. 

I took a trip in October through November. Not once did I see a smile from anyone during the journey (but not because no one smiled – I hope so anyway). The flight attendants on the trans-Pacific leg of this journey were fully garbed in PPE’s. 

“Hi, my name is Shine! I will be serving you… Sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight with us!” 

It was hard to see any “shine” coming from the pair of mascaraed eyes blinking at me through a small opening between double N95 masks and a surgical cap, behind a plastic shield reflecting the glaring lights of a fully lit cabin. Somehow, I missed the intended pleasantry of the introduction. 

“Shine,” I said as graciously as I could. “I would like a bottle of water now to down this bottle of Dramamine. With dinner, want a full glass of red wine, and keep them coming as soon as my glass runs empty until I no longer respond. And slap me to make sure I am out. Please. Thank you."

Just kidding! I did not say that. However, I did have a glass of red with dinner, and it remained half full during the 13 hour flight. I'm a lightweight. 

And I must give Philippine Airlines props for customizing their PPE’s to match their uniform. 

A quarantine period was required at my destination. "You must not leave your room, ma'am, or else you're quarantine will be extended another 7 days," said the receptionist. So here was where I lived for the first week.

Three times a day, a tray of food was brought to my door by a PPE-clad courier. 

Actually, I did have access to the balcony, and all the while, the ground below beckoned me... teased me... cajoled me... serenaded me like the Muses. 

But in the hallway, there lurked Big Brother's digital eye, watching every doorway, waiting to exact additional days to the minimum quarantine period to those who so much as step foot beyond the threshold. So I stayed inside until the much anticipated sobriety test on Day 6. I was called to meet the medical technician on Floor 6 for the nasal swab. And there, I was joined by 17 other residents in a packed hallway. 

The next 24 hours was brutal! And the result was...

Freeeeeeeeedom!