Vaccination Vacation, Part I
Vaccination Vacation
Part I:
Preparation to Arrival
Photo by @MarkusWinkler via UnSplash.
One Week Prior to Departure: Greetings from the Throes of Pre-Travel Anxiety
Our flight for the US departs in one week and it’s starting to feel real. Getting to the US shouldn't be too much of a problem: we just need to take a COVID test and receive a certificate of negative results within 72 hours of departure. Been there, done that. Once in the US, our only quarantine will be self-imposed, because it's my understanding you all have jettisoned your masks and in public it's a Russian roulette of who's vaccinated and who's not. I'm not trying to get shot as the war ends, you know?
Anthony Ramos as John Laurens, one of the last casualties of the Revolutionary War.
BUT, the war isn't over, not by a mile. I mentioned that I am still a steady consumer of American media (okay, mostly Bravo, Instagram, and various podcasts), and it seems like, back home, COVID is over. It's not, of course, but anyone who wants a vaccine can get one, and that's something. Here in Japan, the Prime Minister said that anyone who wants a vaccine will get one...by November.
And this is a developed, wealthy country. Poorer countries will be relying on vaccine donations for many months—perhaps even years—to come. Zeynep Tufekci, a sociologist whose thoughtful analyses I really appreciate, has posited that the end of COVID could look like that of the AIDS epidemic. She writes:
More people died of AIDS after we got the triple combination drug in 1995 that turned HIV into a chronic condition for those who had access to it—but almost all the deaths happened outside the few wealthy countries that could afford it.
Yes, COVID has been a worldwide crisis that has affected all of us, but it's affected some more than others—particularly the poor. Money can't protect one from COVID—but it also kind of does. Remember that famously unhealthy septuagenarian who "beat" the virus thanks to a huge team of medical professionals and expensive, experimental drugs? Or that Kim K island birthday getaway in which she and her closest family and friends got to escape it all “for a brief moment in time”?
But I don't begrudge anyone their Shot Girl Summer—I love that for you, Sweeties! It is a delicate balance acknowledging others' suffering without falling into a constant state of despair. A therapist (not mine) once said that the human brain isn't wired to process suffering on a worldwide scale. Thanks to our modern interconnected-ness, we can constantly access the pain of people everywhere—Yemen, Brazil, Palestine—whereas in the past, we only had to process the suffering of those in our immediate community. I always remember this when I’m feeling bad about not feeling bad enough about the state of the world.
Two Days Prior to Departure
PCR test time! S— has her last day of school (a half day), and immediately after I pick her up we meet N— for testing. It’s a clinic set up specifically for travel COVID testing, with registration in multiple languages. They’re pretty explicit that if you think you have COVID, you should not test at this clinic. It cost ¥22,000 for each test and the negative certificate required to travel to the US—which was about $600 total (oof!) for our family of three. Our certificates were ready the next afternoon, and thankfully we all tested negative. (A friend was not so lucky. They were the only member of their family to test positive and had no symptoms, leaving them to wonder if it was a false positive. Fortunately, everyone tested negative ten days later, and they got to salvage some of their trip.)
After that, it was the usual pre-trip frenzy in our home. I generally always want to leave the house/apartment clean, even if we don’t have someone staying there, but since the dog sitter would be with Des for half the trip, I felt extra pressure to leave the place in good order. I even bought and laundered brand new sheets—which may or may not be because we are desperate to keep her happy, so that she continues to put up with our lovable, miserable mutt.
Speaking of Desmond, he wrote the latest chapter in his memoir—Move Over Marley: I’m the World’s New Worst Dog—as we prepared for this trip. As his sitter would not be available for the full stay, we tried auditioning an alternate sitter for the remaining time. After several visits of being persistently barked at, she decided it would be better if we made other arrangements.
I ended up locating a boarding facility in another part of the city with an English-speaking owner. We spent over forty minutes on the phone one afternoon so he could gather all of Desmond’s vital information. He suggested a trial visit, to make sure Des would gel with the facility, handlers, and other dogs. I agreed, but was also pretty clear that this was our last resort, so I was going to consider the trial a success if everyone completed the stay in one piece.
Some shots of Des from his trial visit: making friends, being obnoxious.
In the end, the visit went fine. I received a video of Des being pet by no fewer than four employees. He looked very worried but was definitely not miserable. He was quiet. He did not set the facility on fire. Success!
Departure Day
With the apartment (mostly) clean and the animals cared for, we left for the airport. At check-in, it seemed as if there were more employees than travelers. No fewer than five Delta employees helped us check in for our flight. Once through security we proceeded to our gate, which appeared to be the only one occupied. All of the stores were shuttered, save for the large duty-free shop, where I scooped up some last-minute souvenirs before it closed as well.
Some souvenirs I scooped up prior to the trip. At duty-free, I grabbed a few beauty products from Saborino and SK-II, and more snacks.
The plane was large enough to accommodate maybe 300 people, and there were about 40 of us on the flight, and nine cabin attendants. S— was in her element, sitting in the seat as if it were her throne, headphones on, Toy Story on the screen. She ate a surprising amount of her dinner, declaring that she enjoyed airplane chicken (?!)
The flight was uneventful, with the flight attendants making two separate reminder announcements about keeping masks on at all times, except while eating and drinking. I’m not sure if anyone needed this reminder; there was only one other passenger within my field of vision and he kept his mask on while snoozing.
As a US citizen, arriving in the US was straightforward: CBP asked us a few standard questions, looked at our passports, and then waved us through. There was no tracking that I was aware of, no mention of quarantine.
Vaccination
We arrived late on a Saturday, and the next day was Father’s Day. N— and I wanted our vaccinations right away, and had to make sure they were Pfizer. (I have had blood/platelet issues in the past, so no J&J for me, and the wait between Moderna shots is too long for us.) Many locations were not offering shots on a Sunday, but one pharmacy was: Wal-Mart! We generally avoid Wal-Mart for various reasons, but in this one case, we were ready to embrace the behemoth retailer and get vaxxed. The pharmacy employees were efficient and helpful and the ambience interesting: the waiting area was a folding chair set in front of the condom aisle. (Massive selection, btw!)
Just hanging out in the post-vaccination waiting area-slash-prophylactic aisle
That pretty much concludes the first, and likely easiest, part of the trip. If you’re a US citizen, getting into the US during COVID is easy, finding a vaccine is easy (a little tougher on a Sunday), and it will be one of the quietest international flights you’ve ever experienced. Now, if only the return were so simple!
