Sex, Travel and The Pandemic

Lockdowns, Pandemics, And When Buildings Speak

There was one bus available from London to Sheffield on that day. Just one. Well, I only needed one bus, so it was my lucky day. A few people at the hostel had had their buses and flights canceled, so I was crossing my fingers in hopes that my one bus wouldn’t be another casualty of COVID-19.

It was an early bus, and when the day came, I said goodbye to my friends, strapped my Osprey backpack on, and began my journey through the disease-ridden streets of London. I don’t recall even owning a face mask. They weren’t very readily available back then. My best form of defense against the virus was hand sanitizer, but I don’t recall even having that. When the pandemic hit, hoarders took to the streets and bought out the supplies of hand sanitizers. So, I was on the streets of London, naked and fully exposed to the virus.

My other best form of defense was to maintain a social distance from everyone. This proved quite easy. The streets of London had become empty and abandoned. I was the only fool brave enough to be on the streets at a time like this. And I was a fool. But I was a fool about to get on a bus to Sheffield while they were about to get stuck in Europe’s new COVID-19 epicenter.

The last time I was in London, the streets were bustling with an endless flow of people. It was now an empty shell of what it once was.

The tall buildings looked down on me with expressions of stark judgement. “Why are you on the streets, bruv? Go back inside, there is a virus afoot.” This is what I assumed the buildings would say if they could speak.

“Tsk Tsk Tsk. Look at this poor soul,” One building said to another. “If he only knew what was coming.”

“How far do you think he’ll get before he ends up living on the streets?” One building asked.

“I give him a month.” A short stumpy hotel building replied.

A taller, older, and much wiser historical building said. “He seems like he’s a survivor. I think he’ll find a way around this.”

“You wanna bet?” The short stumpy hotel building retorted. “I will bet you Queen Elizabeth’s secret safe word.”

“Or a picture of Harry Styles in lingerie,” A small retail fashion store next door chimed in.

The buildings of London went on like this for a while. They knew a lot more than they were physically able to reveal. They saw everyone, and through their walls, they heard everything. Colossal omniscient and all-seeing titans observing the ins and outs of the city’s deepest and darkest corners. They heard the coughs and cries by its inhabitants, they saw the overpacked hospital beds and waiting rooms. They knew of the dying diabetic in Daisy Lane, and the unemployed uncle from Umbria Street. They knew of the 14-year-old boy who had just lost his father to COVID-19 who was unable to see him in his final moments. They knew of the Turkish couple who had to close their restaurant and were now unable to make ends meet. They knew of the young French lad unable to find a way back home to France to his family. They knew of the eviction notices, the arguments, the pain, the suffering, the heartbreak. They knew it all, spreading the news between each other like a grided gossip column.

I was oblivious to what was really going on. I could only stare at the buildings from the outside, wondering what was going on within. Woe is me.

I sauntered into the London Underground Metro. My bag was heavy, and I felt the groggy aftermath of the zombie attack I had at the hostel. I was in no mood to talk or see anyone. It was a rough few days, and I just wanted to get to Sheffield. Above all else, I just wanted this pandemic to be over.

Back on the eleventh of March 2020, The World Health Organization officially declared COVID-19 a pandemic. I was in Amsterdam when I first heard the news. My brain didn’t particularly process what it had actually meant to be in a pandemic. I knew of pandemics. I heard of them on TV Shows and history channel documentaries. I even lived through one in the years 2009 and 2010. The Swine Flu was the most recent pandemic before COVID-19. Swine Flu killed hundreds of thousands of people, but nothing in my life really changed then. Stores, schools, restaurants, and bars didn’t close down and the hysteria wasn’t that much, at least in Trinidad. If the Swine Flu pandemic was what the COVID-19 pandemic had to live up to, then it shouldn’t be too bad, right? I mean, people get sick and die all the time.

During the Swine Flu pandemic, I was a young kid, barely 18 years old. I was living under the protection of my parents in a small and rural area in the already small and rural town of Sangre Grande, Trinidad. If I got the sniffles, my mom, stepmom, or grandmother who lived across the street would make me a smoking hot soup or tea, and I would be back to normal in a few days. I didn’t have to worry about anything.

10 years later, I was no longer under the protection of my parents in a rural Trinidadian town. I was in the crowded and busy catacombs of Europe. I was alone, exposed, and any battle I got myself into would be my own. When the WHO director Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus made that announcement on March eleventh, I was in no position to accept what it might mean for the future. What I remember of that day was that I was having Thai food with a Dutch friend of mine who I had met in San Cristobal in, Mexico. She was one of the volunteers helping the Israelis of the UDoNoMe volunteer group. We made Shakshuka and painted schools together. Back then, the idea of us reuniting months later in Amsterdam and breaking bread in the middle of a pandemic wasn’t even a thought. My life had come a long way since Mexico. Hell, my life had come a long way since the last time I was in the Netherlands. The last time I was in the Netherlands, the toxicity of my relationship with my girlfriend had come to a boil, and I was prepping to go to Prague, where I met the vampire girl. I couldn’t even remember what the vampire girl’s name was or what she looked like. It started with an S, I think. I believe I had her on Instagram or Facebook. It was definitely Facebook; I didn’t really use Instagram back then. I also couldn’t tell you the last time I had spoken to my ex. I no longer had relationship problems, but with that problem gone, another one swooped in to take its place. Such is life, I suppose.

I had the London Underground mostly all to myself, sharing it with the odd traveler here and there. The metro was for essential travel only. Was going to the bus station to catch a ride to Sheffield considered essential? I didn’t know, but no one asked me any questions as I slipped through undisturbed.

The underground ride to the bus station was a quiet one. I sat alone, thinking about everything that had transpired within the last couple of days. It was a lot to take in. This situation I had found myself in was very unique. For my whole life, there has never been anything that shut the world down to this extent. In my entire 27-year existence, there were wars, terrorist attacks, Ebola, and Swine Flu, but none had brought the global panic and hysteria that COVID-19 did.

*Cough* *Cough*

I heard the sound of coughing on the train.

An old lady had entered my train car. She sat a distance from me, and she coughed constantly. Coughing was one of the first symptoms of COVID-19.

“Stop coughing, lady,” I said quietly to myself.

*Cough* *Cough*

“Just stop coughing, lady.” I repeated, to myself.

*Cough* *Cough*

If only I had my flamethrower now.

I got up and positioned myself further away from the coughing lady. I was quite terrified of getting the virus. The media did an amazing job at instilling terror about the novel virus. There was a very low probability that I would die if I got the virus but what got me shaking in my boots was the stigma attached to it and the medical bills I would incur if I did become hospitalized. I could barely afford a place to stay. How would I afford being hospitalized? If I became sick or showed any symptoms of COVID-19, I wouldn’t be able to stay at the Airbnb anymore. I didn’t have travel insurance either.

What would become of me if I got really sick? I didn’t want to find out, so I took as many precautions as I could have.

I had made it just in time for the bus to Sheffield. I boarded, made myself comfortable, and rested, as my window of opportunity to return home to Trinidad and Tobago was now good and closed. I was officially stuck in Europe, caged in with a deadly and debilitating coronavirus. A hissing snake in a dark room.