North Terminal 350

Image: The scream by Edvard Munch

North Terminal 350

First there was the fire. Then the floods. And now the pestilence.

No, this is not a biblical reference. These were the events that played out preceding every flight we attempted to board over a period of two months. If we had been atheists we may have started rethinking our belief system by now. Slightly end of days, apocalyptic? Indeed.

Was something trying to prevent our life plan? Who knows? Or perhaps we had unknowingly decided to implement our own major life changes at a time that would simultaneously coincide with unprecedented world events. Anyone who knows me would expect nothing less.

This is the part where I should introduce myself: Let’s call me Z for now. Single mother of two female humans and 4 rescue felines. Apparently a bit hippy dippy, free spirit, conspiracy theorist. More importantly, the kind of person you can rely on in an emergency. A fortunate trait indeed as we were about to enter into a prolonged period of worldwide emergency.

I don’t know about you but over the years I have learnt that a sense of humour is crucial to survival. My own particular humour leans more towards the dark and ironic with a tad of dirty Benny hill thrown into the mix. Yes, like all humans, I get stressed, particularly when life as we know it seems to be falling apart at the seams; people are dying rapidly in large numbers, the economy is crashing and we are entering into the huge abyss…

But even then, I will always find something to laugh at. And of course, something to cry about.

Room 350

I sit gazing out the hotel window. A cold, bleak grey March day. Eerily quiet. The skies are empty. In another place, another time, this would not be unusual except here I was sat next to one of the world’s busiest airports. It’s that feeling again washing over me. Bleakness.

I yearn for a hint of sunshine, a splash of colour. Even the hotel room walls are painted grey for fuck’s sake. The room is not bad, clean, modern, basic but grey. I’m zapping. Channel to channel to channel. Nothing but mindless drivel. From vertically challenged females beating each other in LA to surgically enhanced males and females sniping at each other in Ascot.

I really am reaching rock arse bottom. I’m so shattered from over 26 hours of no sleep that I can barely keep awake but every time I close my eyes I’m met with a barrage of vivid stressful images and what ifs. I don’t know how much more I can take. What’s going to happen to us? Am I being melodramatic?

I stuff another cheese roll in my mouth. Cheese roll with a hint of salad. All I’ve eaten for the last 3 days. Cheese or hummus with a hint of green. I long for home cooked food. I long for home full stop though I don’t even know where home is anymore.

I cough and I cough. Dry raking cough. My throat is on fire. My ears are on fire. The pain is excruciating. My skull feels like its being caved in with a sledgehammer. No fever, thank God.

I’m frightened though. Not all symptoms are the same. Indeed some people who are carriers are symptomless. We have followed the ‘protocol’ for quite a while now, long before others in other parts of the world. The hand cleaning, the gloves and masks. The immune boosters. Been alert, watchful.

But still, the Iranian doctor’s words echo in my ears, as I cry with relief at hearing my daughter’s symptoms did not appear to be the ‘Virus’ yet expressed my concern, intuitively knowing what was coming long before it was announced. “No, you are not paranoid. You are right. All I can say is boost your immunity with large doses of Vit C. Take D3. Drink plenty of fluids, warm or hot fluids never cold. Keep washing your hands, don’t touch your mouth or eyes. Gloves and mask when outside, especially if you have a cough to protect others. The measures will be announced soon and they will be harsh. I urge you to leave now while you still can.” Damn. From an egocentric perspective, being right is satisfying. Being right about this was terrifying. For once I wished I was wrong.

For once I wished the ‘survival’ list I had written while sitting sunning myself at a luxury five- star day resort had been another of my ‘conspiracy overload’ moments. (Actually it was cheap day ticket for those of us who can’t afford a full stay at such a place so I was lapping up the environment and making the most of the five star sun) My daughter had looked at me with incredulity. “We’re sitting sun -bathing at a luxury resort and you are writing an apocalyptic survival guide?”

 Yes, on the surface it seemed madness as I looked around me at the array of international tourists doing their selfies on the shoreline, laughing and smiling as they sipped cocktails on the sun-loungers. But contrary to what seemed to be happening on the surface, I knew otherwise. Yes, I do go with my gut feeling, and when I ignore it, things invariably go wrong. I had kept my ear to the ground internationally; watching, observing, listening, ignoring the reassurance from governments. I just knew this was going to be big and dark. A huge feeling of foreboding had followed me for weeks now.

“You know, for once I don’t care if people think I’m mad or a conspiracy theorist. If I’m crazy and over the top, then so be it but forewarned is forearmed. The situation is different everywhere but for those places that rely almost only on imports, they will be hit very hard. Besides the nature of globalization is such that when one falls we will all come crashing down like a game of cards.” I frown as I continue with my list. Dry foods but tinned and jars too in the event there are power cuts and we have no means of cooking. First aid. Solar lights and batteries. My daughter looks over at me, raises her eyebrows and continues with her music, in her own world disconnected from my panic.

I send out the list. My friends and family humour me though some take it more seriously than others as the news trickles in on the first international casualties and the dire economic forecast.

“chill man! Stop freaking out, everything is okay and normal here” one response from a friend. Two weeks later they are on lockdown and the second worst hit country in the world.

Once again, told you so, is not a dignified response, nor is it satisfying to see the misery unfold. But what it is teaching me is this, keep going with that gut feeling.