Travel ain’t what it used to be. Thank goodness.

A bumpy road worth taking

I am writing these words from London. Normally, I’d think nothing of such a trip: a jaunt, a mere hop across the pond to a nation with which we — and by extension I — enjoy a special relationship. These days, though, there are no “mere jaunts,” ponds are oceans again, and the only “special relationship” I have is with a long cotton swab I periodically insert into a nostril.

I almost canceled my plans, but after two years of aborted trips and endemic disappointment I held firm to my departure date. If not now, when?

I prepared for the trip as if I were Shackleton embarking on an Antarctic expedition. I packed, and repacked, then repacked again, a maneuver that involved considerably more addition than subtraction. How many masks are too many masks, I wondered, before answering my own question by squeezing more into my backpack. I filled out forms (so many forms!) that the UK Government and United Airlines and my insurance provider demanded. I made contingency plans.

I don’t subscribe to those weighty pronouncements that the pandemic has changed work/shopping/life forever. Forever is a very long time and we humans don’t possess that degree of foresight. Nor am I a reflexively silver-lining guy. The pandemic has not made me more “grounded” or “centered” or…