But before describing my New York visit (ie Brooklyn visit), I might as well document the hurdles I had to overcome to get here. This was a really important trip for me. I could celebrate Thanksgiving, and observe the first anniversary of my husband’s passing, with family. I am getting on a plane, no matter how dire the safety warnings are.
I have made four Delta flights, five counting this one, since the onset of Covid, without consequences. Delta observes strict cleaning procedures, exchanges air (or maybe filters it—what would be the source of an exchange—air donors?), keeps passengers widely spaced and masked. Of most relevance, I am flying first class with credits amassed from previously cancelled trips. Extra room around my seat is reassuring.
Ages ago, I would march through the first class section and given the passengers seated there sidelong, envious glances. Attendants covered passengers’ trays with white linen placemats, poured coffee and/or champagne (!), handed out menus with choices of entrees. They even had tiny, adorable salt and pepper shakers included with the cutlery.
Those days seem to be long gone. I got a bottle of water and a small package of Cheetos. Attendants passed out forms required to document Covid-related information for contact tracing. These forms were collected at our arrival gate by stern-looking National Guard persons. With very great difficulty and persistence, I had gotten a Covid rapid result test within the required time interval of three days prior to departure, demanded by Governor Cuomo. I deplaned clutching a paper copy of my negative test results. No one wanted to see it. Seriously? I had gone to a lot of trouble to get this.
Rather than impose on my grown children, I am staying in a mediocre Holiday Inn. I’m guessing only about half the rooms are booked, if that. At check-in I was told because of Covid, there would be no cleaning, towel or supply replenishing during my stay. I am running out of shampoo. A dry towel would be nice, too. If I could only locate one of those carts.
More businesses are open than I expected, but that might change soon as statistics worsen. I heard deBlasio confess on television that he would not have closed public schools so abruptly when he did not have a plan for how to reopen them. What an idiot.
I am having such a wonderful time with my family that I am not at all bothered by the lack of the traditional Macy’s parade. I have always been a gleeful Black Friday shopper (in person). Dryden, my most conscientious precaution-observer, pales at the thought of my galloping from store to store, elbowing competing shoppers aside. I fear his resolve will not weaken and I will be grounded. I am bereft.
A wonderful upside of the trip is that my ongoing interaction with living persons has cleared some of my Covid brain fog to such an extent that I am able to speak in complete sentences. An annoying downside is I’ve eaten so much Thanksgiving fare I’m concerned my departing flight won’t be able to get off the ground.
Pray for me!