It’s March 11, 2020. I just got back from spending the day wandering around Geneva, Switzerland. I was on a solo trip during spring break. I had started in Zurich a few days before and took the train to Geneva. On the 11th I visited Old Town Geneva where the St. Pierre’s Cathedral is. I went down to the water to see the famous fountain called the “Jet d’Eau.” I went to sleep in my hostel that night excited for the next day because I was planning on going to some museums.
I had turned my phone on airplane mode so that I wouldn’t be charged for travel data. But while I was asleep, former President Donald Trump made an announcement that would end my trip abruptly.
For some reason, I woke up at 2 a.m. on the 12th. When I turned on my phone I had 30 missed calls and texts from my mom and uncle. They were telling me Trump had announced he was suspending all travel from European countries for 30 days because COVID-19 had made it to the United States and was rapidly spreading.
My uncle needed a picture of my passport so he could book me a last minute flight to Metro Detroit, which is where I’m from. At the time he booked it, the plane was not full and he said there was a chance I could have a row to myself. I definitely didn’t end up having a row to myself.
The next day was a whirlwind. When I woke up I told the front desk at the hostel that I would be checking out early. I ordered an Uber to the Geneva Airport.
My first flight to Paris was short and calm; The impending doom hadn’t yet hit us. But as I stepped off the plane at Charles De Gaulle Airport, the reality of the dire situation the world was in hit me. Crowds of hundreds of people surrounded me. People were yelling at airport employees, no one knew where to go because gates kept changing, and flights were filling up fast.
When I got to my gate, there was a large line of people trying to get on the flight so they could get back to America before the travel ban went into effect. It was hard to watch the airlines turn these people away.
While waiting in line to get on the plane everyone around me was speculating with family members and friends about what was going on.
“I heard Metro Detroit is a hot spot for the virus.” “I heard that many people have already died.” “We should be wearing masks.” “We don’t have to wear masks.”
I started to panic, thinking, “what if I get the virus because I don’t have a mask and bring it home to my family? Is my home really a hot spot?”
But I was alone. There was no one to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I just had to keep moving forward.
Every single seat on the plane was taken. I had a window seat, which normally I prefer, but not this time. This time two grown men were sitting next to me and 10 minutes into the flight they fell asleep, leaving me trapped.
To calm myself down, I took Benadryl to knock me out. Eight hours later we were in Michigan.
I got into my moms car at the airport wondering when the next time I could solo travel would be. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I was back on the train from Zurich to Geneva. But I wasn’t, and I had no idea what was coming for us.
By March 14, 2020, my school had canceled in-person classes and my professors were moving up final exam dates to end the semester early.
Three years later and I have graduated college and started news reporting full-time. I still have not been able to solo travel again. I hope three years from now that changes. And hopefully the next time I’m in a foreign country all by myself, an international travel ban won’t go into effect. That is not something I want to experience again.
