Traveling, for us, is always a gamble. A global pandemic and the safeguards it triggers take a lot of the element of gambling out, at least the chance to winning.
An old friend of ours was put in an awkward situation. His family was forced to make difficult decisions about the care of an elderly member, and he wasn’t handling it well. We couldn’t plan any real vacation this summer and he could use a shoulder to cry on, from six feet away, no point in taking any chances. So we saddled up and rode to the rescue, a bag full of disposable non-latex gloves and face masks in easy reach. It was an odd trip through separate realities.
In Illinois, there was an interstate sign that read “You look sharp in that mask.” In some places, they had to be talking to us, since we were about the only people in masks.
The farther west we got, and the more rural it became the more obvious the distinction. We heard “pandemic” echoing through the heartland. In one small fast food restaurant, a group of grown men was mocking us for our caution, gloves, and masks. Not overtly, more clandestine, and childish. Of course, they also ignored the sign instructing patrons to ask for a new glass before refilling their soft drink. It was clear they were convinced the whole thing was unnecessary. When somebody they knew arrived they pulled a table over to theirs to make room for the new additions, throwing the “please do not use this table, practice safe social distancing” signs to the floor.
It was clear people were ready to reopen the economy. It didn’t matter what the leading epidemiologists had to say, they had their own “experts” with their own theories and explanations, and by God, they weren’t going to be caught dead overreacting to some staged, fictitious virus.
We stopped at a couple of our old haunts, places we used to be welcome and wearing masks in there made us suspect, we were liberals from the east.
One guy, an old friend, the owner of a small bar we used to frequent, actually told us the press was the problem. Reporting the news was actually making the news. He told us he had lived through two influenza epidemics but nobody knew about them until they were over. He didn’t tell us when they happened or how many people died, and he wouldn’t have been happy at all if I would have asked him how many people would have lived if they had been given the opportunity. So, I didn’t ask.
We used a whole box of gloves and our masks were starting to smell from the perspiration, breathing, exhaust fumes, and just the gunk and odor of life. On the way back we stopped at a gas station in Indiana after I filled the tank I decided to get a cup of coffee, yes, I drink gas station coffee, a lot of it, a woman came out of the shop, three young daughters in tow, all of them bare-faced. The woman stopped, turned around, and started yelling at the attendant.
“Sorry, I didn’t see your sign.” She said it several times, each louder than the last.
“What?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t see the sign.” She said this time she was yelling.
“What sign?” The attendant asked from behind her plexiglass screen.
“The one saying we were supposed to wear masks in the store.”
“It’s ok.”
Shriven and forgiven she finally gathered her charges and went to her car and I could go inside.
She didn’t seem to understand wearing a mask everywhere is a good idea, the whole country has a sign saying masks are required or at least recommended.
Our friend was glad we came, so were we. We still feel a little guilty about traveling in such perilous times, but we did what we thought best. It did offer a glimpse of the turmoil facing our frail, fractured country. I hope the skeptics are right. I’m not convinced, and I will continue to wear a mask, gloves, and a sense of responsibility to my fellow man. My wife said she didn’t know if we were supposed to wear a mask to protect us or them, and I don’t care.
We are all in this together, I hope.