Traveling in a COVID19 World - Michelle Beesley

In 2019 I travelled to Paris, London, Japan, The Maldives and South Africa. I had crisscrossed the world. So when I said goodbye to my middle son who was heading to the USA I was not worried in the slightest. He was only going for two weeks and he’d be home for a day before my husband and I headed off on another trip to Africa. We’d booked a safari in Botswana.

My eldest said, “I don’t think you should go, mate. That virus has spread to Italy. It’ll be in the US soon.”
How prophetic his words would be.

In San Francisco he partied with friends, ate out at cool restaurants and was crammed in at gigs in some hole in the wall music venues. By the time he’d reached Austin, Texas the virus had reached San Francisco and seemed to be following him. Austin shut down and flights were being suspended. He and his American friends lined up for hours at grocery stores where shelves were already bare. His fun holiday was turning into a nightmare. Borders began closing. Our Prime Minister urged Australian citizens to come home.

But that was not so easy. Flights were still going to Australia from LA but.... flights from Austin to LA kept being cancelled. Friends on campus began stocking up on ammunition for their rifles and handguns. This was Texas, after all, home to cowboys, ten gallon hats and sharp shooters. Things were becoming serious.

Now I’m lucky that my son was born in Denver. He’s a dual citizen so if he needed to stay he could but.... I could see things were becoming grim around the world. It was time for all my chickens to be home in the nest.

He bought a new flight for around $50 Australian and spent all his travelling money on groceries for his student friends in the Co-op where they lived. As he was walking home, laden with bags, he was surrounded by five homeless people.

“Give us your stuff, “they growled menacingly.

He dropped the bags and shaped up to them.

“Who wants a crack first, mate? “he called in his best Aussie strine, staring at each in turn, standing tall and strong.

They looked shocked. They were not expecting that accent or a fight. They slunk back into the alley behind them. His heart was ratcheting with adrenaline, but he was so glad it hadn’t been one of the girls bringing groceries home.

The day of his flight came and amidst tearful goodbyes he headed to the airport. The messages beeped through my phone.

He’d made it through security. The flight was on the board. He was ushered onto the aircraft. He was in the air flying to LA. Tears and champagne flowed.

Soon along with a plane load of Aussies, he made it onto the flying kangaroo and was up, up in the air. My boy, my baby, was coming home.