So I went to New York on holiday in the midst of a global pandemic. When I came back, I was hit with the sad reality of having to spend 14 days inside, quarantining.
Back around the end of June, I finished my master’s degree here in London. My mom, who lives in New York, was changing jobs at that time, so it was as if fate had set up the ideal opportunity for us to see each other. Except, of course, that there’s this little thing called COVID-19 ruining everyone’s best laid plans. Luckily, however, I have an American passport, so any visa restrictions with regards to Brits visiting the USA don’t apply to me.
It took me a few days to weigh up the rationality of going away. I knew I’d have to quarantine when I got back, and that was extremely off-putting. Was it the safest thing to do? Was it irresponsible? What would it even be like to travel internationally during a pandemic? In the end, I decided that the timing of the trip was too perfect to pass up on, and I knew I’d be as responsible and cautious as possible. So, I booked my flight.
I went away for three and a half weeks. I knew that if I was going to do this, then I would need to be away for longer than the time I’d have to spend quarantining when I returned.
From the moment I left my flat in London, to the moment I got into my mom’s car at Newark Airport (around 12 hours later), I was wearing a face mask. It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but I think I owe that to my very comfortable soft fabric mask. After a while, I almost forgot I was even wearing one.
_From LNDN –> NY_
June 29th: the day of my departure. At 6am, I locked my front door, put on my backpack, and picked up my big black suitcase full of British goodies in one hand, and in the other, my little pink carry-on case. I carried both down the stairs of my building complex in one go. I knew that all my lockdown workouts would eventually pay off.
I ordered my Uber to Heathrow Airport, and when the driver arrived, I put my face mask on.
The airport was actually more full than I expected it to be, but nothing compared to normal times. I had arrived there in record time, so I had to wait a while before I could check-in. I stood awkwardly under the electronic screen displaying flight information – that way I’d be ready to run to the front of the line when the check-in desk number was shown. As I stood there, I watched people enter the airport, wiping down their cases, using hand sanitizer and, generally looking a little confused and stressed.
After around fifteen minutes, a man about my age came up next to me. He had an American accent so I figured he was probably going to be on my flight. Flights were extremely limited – I think mine was the only morning flight to Newark.
My presumption about him was right, and we ended up chatting for the whole time before our flight boarded. We decided to grab a coffee on the way to our gate. Though, in this instance, “grab” might not be the right word. There was only one place open selling coffee, and the line for this café was truly unbelievable – you would’ve sworn they were handing out free money. We had ages to kill, so we joined the long queue (and I desperately needed some caffeine in my system). I bought a halloumi and avocado breakfast sandwich and a flat white coffee.
Once on the flight, a miracle happened: I had the WHOLE row to myself. In fact, most people did. I suppose that’s one perk of flying during a pandemic. It was SO empty.
We were allowed to take our masks off when we were given our food and drinks; but as soon as we finished, they had to go straight back on.
Throughout all of the flight I was filled with so much excitement. I hadn’t seen my mom since November last year. But I was also filled with sadness, because I knew it would be the blink of an eye before I would be back on this flight, heading in the other direction to go home.
When we landed, some authorities came on board and gave us their spiel about if you feel unwell then blah blah blah. I’m sure by this stage you get the gist.
Once off the plane and in the airport, we each had our temperature checked and were asked by airport security if we had any symptoms of COVID-19. We also had to tell them where our final destination was.
Finally through border control, I collected my bags and went to go find my mom.
_Fast-forward three weeks_
After the most amazing trip away, I was right – a blink of an eye and I was back at the airport to head home to England. The car journey there was pretty smooth, except for the pounding hangover I had from the previous night’s big send-off, and the gigantic hail storm my mom and I got caught in, where visibility was literally -5.
Once I was through security and had handed in my bags, I thought I’d make the most of my final few hours in the US and pay homage to our amazing cocktails. May as well go out with a bang!
The calm before the storm 
View from the plane. Can you spot the London Eye?
When we finally boarded the plane, many many hours delayed (yeah, remember that hail storm? Well, it followed me), I had the whole row of seats to myself…again. SCORE!
Safe to say that I was overwhelmed with emotion to be leaving, as I always am whenever I say goodbye to my mom. It wasn’t even like I was going home to anything exciting. I knew that once I got off this plane, that would be the last of my in-person interactions for the next two weeks. Well, except for the Uber driver and the Tesco delivery people.
Once we landed, authorities came on board and gave us the rules of having to quarantine and so forth. In the airport, to my shock, nobody took my temperature, or asked me about any symptoms. All we had to do was fill in an incredibly long form about our quarantine address, how long we’d been away – that kind of thing. This was done on your smart phone once you got off the plane, so while it was being completed, everyone was pretty much on top of each other in one big crowd. Great social distancing, eh? After we had filled in the form, no one checked to make sure it had been completed.
I got in an Uber home, hauled my suitcases up the stairs, and had a little cry. I was so exhausted (I never sleep on planes) and felt so alone. It was such a come down, coming from what I had – a full house, family, friends, delicious home-cooked meals – to then being in an empty home. My new flatmate that I had only met once before (she moved in the night before I went away) was at work until 6pm. It was just 10am.
The next two weeks sucked. That’s the most elegant way I can put it. I figured that to pass the time, I would just throw myself into work. I had just finished my degree – it was time to get job-hunting! What made quarantining far worse than lockdown back in March, was that it was just me. Before, the streets had been silent, the traffic minimal, and we were all in this together. But now, it was just me. I could hear people socialising on the street outside my window, and it was torturous.
But I got through it. And overall, it was totally worth it.
SEE: Sip Eat Enjoy 