Flying... Fleeing

Ten days ago, I managed to leave London for Frankfurt. It was a very, very empty Heathrow and the departures board resembled one at a small provincial airport. Many of the few people were wearing masks. Quite a few Asians were wearing full protective clothing. 

The first flight that I was booked on, had already been cancelled, but they put me on a later one on the same day. I arrived early at Heathrow, just in case there would be more bureaucracy. There wasn’t and all the coffee shops and food places were closed. I had nothing to do but hope that they don’t cancel the flight.

At some point, the young chap, who sat next to me waiting for his flight to Athens, put on a face mask. He wore it for about 15 minutes and then took it off again. I asked him why he had put it on and then why he had taken it off. He explained, that he did not really believe the masks were necessary but that he had promised his parents to wear one. He laughed when I asked whether 15 minutes made him feel that he has kept his promise. Then he added, “this Corona only hits old people, anyway”. “You are just talking to one”, I said, “Oh”, he said, “I didn’t mean it. I am sorry”. 

Here’s someone spotted waiting for his flight:

The flight wasn’t cancelled. I have never flown in such a clean airplane. Nevertheless, I disinfected the seat-handles and seat-belt. The woman next to me wore a mask. People were very quiet. No one coughed. No one even got up to go to the toilet.

I expected strict measures to regulate entry. I expected to be quizzed about my movements or perhaps even be instructed to self-isolate for 14 days. Having read about arriving passengers in New-Zealand and in the Maldives, who had been quarantined in beach-front luxury hotels, I was fantasising about something similar. Nothing of the sort. Much to my surprise, there were no special measures at the Frankfurt airport. Just the usual: passport control, luggage and out.