The Long Way Home
- Apr 24, 2020
- 3 min read
Now or Never.
It was not yet morning. I rolled over, not the first to wake. I didn't think much of why. Naturally, I pulled out my phone and checked the news. A Level 4 - Do Not Travel advisory was issued. American travelers all over the world were suddenly stranded with no foreseeable help from the US government. My heart sank. Shashicka was supposed to drive us to the beach at 11:30AM. We discussed the pros and cons of staying of leaving or staying in the country as the deep purples of the rising sun inched into our room.
3 hours later, the ultimatum was clear. If we stay, we risk being stranded at a future date. If we leave, it means the very premature end of a journey I had been dreaming about for the past year.
We wanted to be close to family in what we thought could evolve into a tenuous and flat out dangerous situation. So we splurged $2,000 on a pair of single layover plane tickets to JFK, leaving that night at 9:05PM. After some negotiation via WhatsApp, Shashicka agreed to reroute us to Colombo, which he expected would be a~5.5 hour drive.
Getting to the Airport
During our last breakfast, I oscillated between relief, disappointment, and frustration. Then the alert came. A nationwide lockdown.
Shashicka texted us moments after the alert went out, and told us he would be risking arrest if he still drove us, as the round trip journey would violate curfew. We pretty much begged him and he graciously agreed. He just needed to pick up a special permit, and we had to leave in the next hour. We packed our lives up into our bags for the last time.
Shashicka was very friendly and talkative. But it concerned us that, despite wearing gloves and a mask, he said he didn't believe in the virus, and he wouldn't get sick. 'I drive everyone' he said, pridefully. I asked if I could roll down the window while we sanitized the backseat...
We drove into town, greeted by bumper to bumper traffic. Lines were out the door at grocery stores and banks, and gas stations were mobbed with motorbikes, tuk tuks, cars, buses. Every few minutes I would stare at the time, contemplating if we'd even make it to the airport. Shashicka's tank was also running on empty. We were ordered to turn around by an officer at a gas station Shashicka wanted to use because it was cheaper. The gas station continued to hover at 0. We finally reached one, and spent a good 20 minutes fighting for a nozzle. Surrounded within inches by vehicles.
The rest of the drive was slow and disorienting. Shashicka's AC was ineffective, and he drove like he was trying to set a fender bender record. The roads were also also hilly and winding, and you can't roll your window down in a monsoon.
The flights that we had purchased had now doubled in price, so I at least had some assurance to cling to.
Empty Airports
Over 7 hours later we arrived at Colombo Airport, crowded with white travelers who seemed to have nowhere to go. We checked in, got through security, and cautiously had some dinner in an abandoned alcove of the airport, trying to stay as far away from others as we could.
About 7 more hours later, we touched down in Istanbul, struck by the sight of dozens of docked planes. We disembarked and roamed the dark and empty terminals of what is typically one of the world's busiest airports. About 110 of the 130 flights were cancelled.
The anxious part of me replayed the unlikely yet not impossible scenario that the US would ban all arrivals in the next 40 minutes, our flight would be cancelled, and we'd be stranded in Istanbul.
Luckily that didn't happen, and we survived both legs of the journey.
Touchdown on US Soil
We expected customs to take hours due to stringent Co-Vid precautions. Instead, we queued in a customs kiosk that was shorter than usual, handed our self-assessment health forms to a TSA agent, and that was it. No thermometers or further inquiry into the 7 countries we had visited.
My sister Rose was waiting at passenger pickup, and it took every part of me to resist hugging her. We loaded into her quarantine-ready Prius and enjoyed some Powerades.
My older sister, Charlotte, lovingly agreed to house us refugees for the 14-day quarantine. After lots of arm twisting, Lulu came around to the idea as well.
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