The first hint of COVID, 3 years ago now, I burrowed into my nest, determined not to expose myself or my family to this new virus. I was first in line when the vaccine and its boosters arrived. I was going to re-enter the world shielded like a Viking off to pillage.
This year we felt safe booking a “luxury” tour to the five National Parks in Utah. We’d managed to escape the Vid this long so we must have super immunity. God knows, we’d been exposed enough times.
To me a luxury tour is one that does not involve a Holiday Inn Express. My idea of camping is a Holiday Inn Express. We booked with one of our favorite companies and swore we would wear masks all the way. This was a “coach” tour. A “coach” is a bus, I don’t care how you dress up the name. A nice bus – comfy seats, lovely toilet, water bottles at our seat every day, with expansive windows for the view – but still a bus with people sitting less than two feet from you in front and behind.
Did we wear masks? Nope. Nobody else did so we figured they all had inside info that there was no virus among us. The first couple of days I didn’t even think about getting sick. Partly because I was otherwise worrying about random stuff that could happen. And it did. Day 3 I tripped getting off a raft onto the dock. Face first with knees right behind scraping the wood dock. Young Christian, who had been our river guide, looked like he had never seen a 77 year old woman splat like that. The old ladies coming after me got Christian’s best grips. I have an accident on every trip and it was good to get it out of way early on and not require a hospital visit.
The day before that our foursome of desert adventurers got lost in Arches National Park. It looked like we were on a path, but a path is really hard to determine in shifting sand. We wandered around for 30 minutes or so, didn’t see anyone else from our group and the bus/coach had moved on to the meeting point. It’s HOT in the desert, but the good news is I didn’t sweat one drop. The other good news is that we found the bus/coach in time to catch a ride back to the ranch.
Moving along to my starting point (!) which is Covid: one member of the couple who sat either behind or in front of us every time we were traveling in the bus/coach started coughing. A little. Then a lot. The next day the tour director announced that two members of our group were leaving the tour because of testing positive for Covid. I figured we were doomed. And we were.
On the flight home I was experiencing a sore throat. I wore my mask “just in case.” We were reunited with our luggage at the Orlando airport baggage claim. You see, on a “luxury” tour you never have to handle your luggage. It magically follows you everywhere and appears faithfully in your room each evening. When the suitcases rolled off the belt in Orlando I felt like someone had just handed me a foster child that I hadn’t asked for and now had to care for. Plus I was, by this time, obviously sick and didn’t have the strength to deal with the 50 pounds of souvenir t shirts stuffed in the bags. Fortunately, there are “people” who can help with that right up until you retrieve your car from long term parking.
Testing positive that night I crawled into bed for three days and only came up for chicken soup provided by friends and family. Our increasingly sick old dog lay beside me for all that time. At one delirious point I walked the dog in my nightgown – which I found out about later.
When I started feeling better I sat with John to watch a Geneva High School football game on YouTube – Vikings vs Panthers. Seeing “Panthers” written on the grassy field reminded me of the first Knock Knock joke I ever heard. So the following sequence took place, himself in recliner, me curled on couch:
Me: “Knock, knock.”
Him: Silence
Me: “Knock, knock”
Again silence
Me: “KNOCK, KNOCK, GODDAMMIT!”
Him: skips a beat, then “WHO’S THERE
Me: “Panther”
Him: “Panther who?”
Me: “Panther what I wear, what do you wear?”
Absolute silence from the recliner, while I am hysterically laughing, high on NyQuil.
Me: “What the hell took you so long to answer my knocks?”
Him: “In 40 years of marriage you have never knock knocked me. I wasn’t expecting it.”
Now that’s how to keep the zing in a relationship.
On My Mind 