leaving a hot zone: a road trip nyc-miami during the coronavirus pandemic

leavingahotzone.jpeg

After 70 days quarantined in an NYC apartment, my family decided to drive 20 hours south in search for a place where we could breathe fresh air and catch some sun. 

The decision was not easy and it came slowly. It has been two and a half months of a steady routine of meals in the kitchen, exercising in the living room, harvesting our indoor greenhouse and exhausting any topic of conversation we could think of. I think in two months, my husband and I learned every single detail of each other’s lives, that we haven’t  unearthed in 20 years of marriage. Not being able to open the window, being indoors and the intensity of a city that became ill was draining all our energies and in the last days we were all dragging ourselves from the sofa to our beds, hoping to wake up from this nightmare.

I jumped out of the bed at 4 AM on the day we planned our escape. I couldn’t sleep thinking about all the logistics of traveling for 20 hours with a teenager, a dog, a husband and everything else I could possibly fit in our car.

NYC has become a sterile place so I had to think of every single detail and the idea of stopping to pee was the scariest one. What if the virus was just flying free there in the bathrooms? Or someone had just sneezed and touched the door handle, or even worse, the virus would be flying outside in the parking lot ready to enter my nostrils as soon as I opened the door.

I needed to be ready. Hand sanitizers, gloves, masks, food, toilet seat covers, dog food, water. These were some of the items I packed to minimize the need to stop on the road and the contact with “ugh” other people.

We left at 6 AM with the idea that we would not stop before we passed NY and New Jersey, two of the most affected areas in the USA. Big mistake. A jam in the Lincoln Tunnel and we all were in desperate need of a bathroom on the other side. First stop, New Jersey.

We parked the car and entered the convenience store. Everybody was wearing a mask here. I ran to the bathroom all equipped with my gloves, masks and glasses. Here lies my first challenge. I have really never used the bathroom wearing gloves. I can only say that latex gloves and zippers are not a good match and my glove got stuck in my zipper even before I used the bathroom. After that experience I became an expert in zippers and latex gloves.

Back to our car, the more southwest we go, the less concerned people are with the virus. South Carolina was our next stop. As we exited the car in our gear, we noticed that no one around was wearing masks or had any protective garments.  Here is the embarrassing thing: people just started to move away from us, as if we were infected. Mothers pulled their kids away, old ladies crossed the streets, men rapidly closed their doors. It was truly an out of this world experience. 

But there we were, only 10 hours left. As we had already discussed just about every possible topic in the past months, we just sat there and drove to our last stop: Georgia. Again, no one had any masks on, and we started to feel uncomfortable wearing ours. We filled the tank quickly, our dog went for a quick pee, and then we left.

Nineteen hours later we arrived in Miami. It wass 1 AM and we parked the car in the garage. The doorman came to help. No mask. He kindly pressed the elevator button for us, with his hand uncovered. We stood there, as if we had just arrived in a different dimension. 

We finally crash on our beds and wake up to a sunny Miami, with people and kids walking outside. The sirens and car noises are substituted by dogs barking and birds singing. Although it is a nice feeling to be back to our old lives we fear that the virus is also flying south and soon will hit us all.

This is our third day of Miami. Although we feel less stressed, our experience living in the pandemic hot zone is still alive. Our Miami friends said God gave them a break because they already have to deal with the hurricanes, and I think to myself: New York is really in the eye of the storm, and this is not the end.

Ilana Lipsztein

I am a writer, producer, party planner, party-goer, party animal. Mom. Wife. Dreamer.

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