A Trip Before Social Distancing #Covid19

My mother and I had planned for several months for our annual trip together. We debated long and hard on where we would go and kept a close eye on airplane passenger loads. We settled on Lisbon. We would fly American through Madrid and ZED on TAP Portugal. On the way back, we would stay a night in Madrid with my childhood friend, Daniela, and her family.

A few days before our trip, reports had been coming in about Italy suffering from the mysterious Coronavirus in a similar way to China. I told myself no reports had come from Portugal so we would be fine. The US government and our media were very low key talking about this virus. It didn’t seem like it would affect our trip.

The morning before we left (I from Charlotte, mom from Dallas), Dani started hammer texting me on WhatsApp: Spanish stores were being closed, all events were being canceled, mobs were lining up outside at grocery stores, people were told to work from home and Spanish citizens were asked to stay inside. She didn’t let up; sending me videos of outside Aldi of HUNDREDS of people pushing to get inside. That did it. We wouldn’t go to Lisbon. I filed for a refund for our ZED fares and we decided to hit Argentina instead since we had not heard of a single report of the virus from South America.

Thursday morning we arrived in what I can only describe as the graveyard of John F Kennedy airport. Hallways and escalators were empty. It was eerie. We got to the subway connector and CNN on the monitor above us was talking about some areas of New York were being quarantined. Already we were questioning our decision to travel.

As we stood in front of the subway map, we debated what sites we would see during our 11 hour layover. For me, our annual trip is primarily about seeing things my mom would like to see so we decided to visit the 9/11 Memorial. It was about an hour by subway and we struggled at the machines figuring out how to fill the card with enough money to get there and back (spoiler: we failed).

My mom has ridden in subways all over the world but still remembers a time when the New York subway was one of the most dangerous places on earth and never thought she would ride on it. For me, the best part of the NY subway was watching my mom try to put the metro card in the right way. “Mom, just match the picture and stick it in. No, MATCH the picture!" And why didn’t we use the gate instead of trying to shove our roller bags through the turnstile??! She’s going to be mad reading this but I AM STILL LAUGHING!!!

The subway was pretty empty. I have never seen it so empty. The most packed it ever got that day was during rush hour at 4:45 p.m. on our way back to JFK. However, we still got seats and if you have ever been on this subway at rush hour, normally people are so tightly packed that you have to wedge in from the door.

The 9/11 Memorial is a somber destination. Those gaping holes make you ponder lives and love lost. The waterfalls make me think of the continuity of life; while the names of each person, some with a rose to mark their birthday, personalize each death.

We opted not to go into the museum instead we wandered around the lovely Oculus before heading off to catch another subway for a late lunch at the always delicious, Little Spain.

Because I lived in Spain as a child, and mom loves all things Spanish, we gorged ourselves on gazpacho, pan, jamon iberico, and aceitunas. The last time I had been to Little Spain with friends, it was standing room only. This time, it seemed to be primarily locals as tourism was very low. The workers were very pleasant and obviously glad to see us.

Actually, EVERYONE in New York was pleasant and my mother remarked on it a we were walking to Penn station. As we were walking she seemed to be excited we were walking down 34th Street, Then she remarked, “Now I can say I have been to Manhattan.” I stopped and looked at her with my mouth open, “What? You’ve never been here before?!”

Here I had been just thinking about where we would eat lunch on our layover and it turns out my mother had never been to New York City!! Now I wish we had gone to see Lady Liberty and Times Square. Ugh, opportunity missed. Guess we will have to go again when things settle down.

At Penn station we headed out on a confusing ride back to the airport with some help from locals; there was some debate about which is faster on the blue line: A or E train? As it turns out, both go to the airport connector, just be sure to go the right direction! We made the mistake of not jumping on the first A train that pulled through (OMG there were TWO versions of A!) and ended up waiting an extra 10 minutes for the next one. (Side bar: I have never carried two roller bags up and down as many stairs as I did while trying to get on the correct train. I felt some real empathy for mobility impaired people in Manhattan.)

Mom and I are notorious for getting lost on trains so the warren of New York underground metro options challenged us almost as bad as the time we were on our way to Montserrat and jumped off our train too early and had to wait an hour for the next one! (I did feel moderately bad for the young lady who thought we knew something we didn’t and jumped off with us. Oops.)

Back at JFK we headed through the empty PreCheck line. My mother, bionic that she is, got her usual strip search. Because of her hip and shoulder replacements, the only benefit she gets at PreCheck is the shorter line. To add insult to injury, she also forgot a mouthful of water in her new water bottle so they threw the whole thing away because she didn’t want to go through the process again. JFK is super safe now without her backwash. haha

We made our way to the gate for EZE. It wasn’t set to depart for another three hours but we were tired and needed to charge our phones. There weren’t many people in the boarding area so we plopped all our things down and took turns going to the bathroom. Then mom headed off to find a Starbucks, leaving me with our bags.

I am not sure if it was the eerie quiet of New York or what, but mom pulled up an Argentinian newspaper to read what was going on there. We were alarmed to discover that all inbound passengers BY LAW were required to stay in quarantine for FOURTEEN DAYS! We were only going to be there for FIVE! That would mean we would see nothing but our hotel room. That sealed it, we needed to stay somewhere closer to home and not leave the country after all. By now, it was 8 p.m. and there were not a lot of national flights going out that night.

I used the BEST BETS option in our Travel Guide to see where we could go. I’ll be honest, I wanted to get as close to my home as possible in case I needed to walk there. (Even if it took me a year.) Two California cities, Boston, Chicago and Nashville popped up. Nashville was boarding in 10 minutes! I shoved all of our things into our bags and we started walking toward the BNA gate. The airport was almost completely empty. We stopped at the customer service counter (no one in line) on the way.

Me, “Hi Ladies! Can you please help transfer us to a flight? We need to transfer from EZE to BNA at 8:40.” The stunned look and laughter from the agent prompted us to explain about the policy in Argentina that had driven our decision. She said “Well, you are listed as thru passengers and there are 17 seats on the flight so you should be good.”

We walked down a bit to the gate where they had already finished boarding because there were so few people on the flight. The gate agent gave us a row to ourselves near the front. After boarding, the relief and stress got to me a bit and I cried looking out the window, trying not to let my mom see. I had to remind myself that people are responsible for their own day and that it wasn’t the destination, only the time with my mom, that mattered.

While we waited for takeoff, we looked at hotels on the app HotelTonight, a handy tool for people who need a last minute hotel. We decided not to book until we landed. Then I decided I was too tired to worry anymore and booked a Hilton through the app without consulting my mom. Rebellious daughter to the end, I guess.

We had been anticipating gorging ourselves in business class on the Dreamliner on the long flight to Buenos Aires. Now we were in a tiny Envoy regional jet (Embraer), late at night, with no dinner plans. We told the flight attendant our story and she kindly found snacks and wine for us. It made all the difference! I was not completely shocked at the compassion of a coworker in my AA family, but my mother was very pleasantly surprised. Her joy made it all the more enjoyable for me.

We arrived in BNA and I called us an Uber, admitting to my mother I had already booked a hotel. We checked in and crashed. Cruel daughter that I am, I took the bedroom and mom mother got the sofa bed. (Don’t feel too bad for her, my mom needs to have little stories to share with strangers about how she suffers at my hands. I have to give her fodder!)

We woke up the next morning and I read https://nashville.eater.com/ to find us a good place for brunch. I settled on Liberty Common — great reviews and easily within walking distance. I made a reservation online which didn’t really mean much as the hunkering down of America was well on its way. A few groups of young ladies were out but otherwise it was mostly empty.

We started with Bloody Marys (delicious). Mom ordered the trout with grits (at first she hesitated as it was the priciest thing on the menu but I encouraged her and she said IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH IT.) I ordered the chicken and waffles. According to our excellent waiter, Steven (sorry if I misspelled your name, Steven!) “hot” chicken is a Nashville thing but the Liberty Common special chicken has thyme in in. Since he described “hot” chicken as being spiced with cayenne and paprika or some such, I opted for the Liberty chicken. OH MY GOSH I did not regret that. The waffle was just ok but that CHICKEN! I loved every bite and may have cried when I took the last one.

Finally, I should say something about the decor of Liberty Common: beautiful and well lit with natural light. It was the perfect place for a brunch with my mom (or literally any other person, TBH).

Next stop: Bell Meade Plantation. Normally, trips with my mom include churches, museums and long meals with lots of wine. The gorgeous city of Nashville seemed more about honkey tonks, bars, music and late nights. No offense intended to the locals. I am sure there’s more. We just were limited on time at this point. We needed something ‘cultural’ to do with our one day.

Belle Meade is not a plantation like we normally think of one. Their main source of income was not cotton, but thoroughbred horse studs. One of their claim to fame is the ancestor to famous race horses Seabiscuit and Secretariat. The famous-in-his-time horse trainer Bob Green was originally a slave on the plantation and pay him homage here. Bonus: The tour guide was an absolute delight.

At the end of the tour, we did a wine tasting of locally produced wines. We didn’t check bags, so we couldn’t pick up a bottle but we did get a glass each and some chocolates they offered from a local vendor to enjoy on their patio afterwards.

After purchasing a couple of magnets of Bob Green with one of his prize studs, we caught another Uber to see the new movie release of Little Women. I decided to cut a couple of bucks off the price and got the cheapest Uber. We ended up in a pot-filled ramshackle vehicle with a sign in the window that said “When I die, bury me face down so the world can kiss my XXX.” My mom was not impressed with this lack of professionalism. But, she also didn’t know what the smell was so I decided we would stick it out.

I checked Fandango while we were driving to see if I needed to pre pay for seats. Confusingly, all seats were the same color so I decided not to pre-reserve. Turns out, we were LITERALLY THE ONLY PEOPLE IN THIS POSH THEATER! Our own private showing was pretty nice. But it also reinforced the idea to us that we needed to get home; the world was not normal.

The next morning I wanted to go to a local place for breakfast. We decided to walk to Biscuit Love in the Gulch. If you know me, you know I have the sense of direction of a drunk gnat. I can’t even follow the google walking map correctly 87% of the time. Not for lack of trying or practice,I simply can not find the side of a barn. So, this should tell you walking was a terrible idea. Especially since my mom has feet issues and can not go for miles.

We ended up seeing a little of downtown Nashville (beautiful, but not the direction we were supposed to be headed) when some kind city employees let us know we were far from our destination. They suggested a chain restaurant nearby and I refused. I wanted local eats! My mom was upset I wanted to waste more money on Uber but I requested one any way.

We arrived at Biscuit Love and the line was out the door. Our driver could tell we were not happy about that (we were heading to the airport straight after!) and offered to take us around the corner to Milk & Honey. And, as he had said, it was delicious!

Milk & Honey was trendy, adorable and full of people (not packed yet but a line did start forming as we waited for our food). They had a sign saying they were not taking cash to try to keep down germs for their employees.

I had the fig and prosciutto toast with a side of fruit and mom had a mushroom omelet with the home fries. She also ordered us a cinnamon roll the size of my head because the waiter recommended it.

We decided to walk back to the hotel. As we were walking along I remarked that no matter what direction I am going in you should always assume it’s the wrong one. As I am making this joke, I look back down the street. Yep. There’s downtown behind us and I am leading us away from it. The wrong way. Again. Sigh.

That night we opted for a local bbq place for dinner not too far from the hotel to celebrate by 47th birthday. Live music is upstairs in the little jive joint -- close enough to hear, far enough away to not be obnoxious. Oddly enough, they play "Happy Birthday" TWICE and that was good enough for me.

The next morning, we arrive in the airport we see that an earlier DFW flight is delayed and still boarding. Apparently there is a tornado in DFW and the plane is holding pushback. The gate agent offers to let us get on if we didn’t check bags. Mom wants to stay with me a bit longer but I know that a delayed flight just means more and more delays throughout the day. I kiss her good bye and make her go. I wait at the gate until her plane pushes back. My flight to CLT boards 20 minutes later.

All in all, I am glad we went home to our houses before we were mandated to be socially distant, before all flights to Europe were cancelled, before knowing that just being around other people could spread this disease to the health compromised.

I wish we could’ve stayed out together a bit longer but the stress, and the risk, wasn’t worth it. We will travel again together. Soon.