The first time I had concerns about the Coronavirus came when I was leaving London in early February. I was asked if I had traveled through China in the last 14 days several times before boarding. Before then, I assumed this was going to play out like MERS in 2015 – an isolated outbreak. But something seemed a little different this time. I was right.
My 2020 travel plans were remarkable. I was going to travel 60,000-100,000 miles. I was going to hit Europe three times, attend the Grey Cup in Regina and finally drive the Florida keys among other trips. I was going to get married in the Willamette valley at a winery.
These are complaints that happy, employed people get to make. I’m thankful these are my complaints. 2020 is a detour for most of us, for others it is the end of the road. Let’s be humble, let’s recognize this. Frankly, let’s not be cold – “the death rate is actually not that high” is a callous retort in the face of real pain.
If you still have the blues, lift yourself up and get planning for next year. Where are you going? How will you get there? Most of us are going to make it through this so don’t stop planning and keep reading Seat17a.
Oh yeah, one last thing – wear a fucking mask.