How Far Have We Come Back? Take A Flight. You Might See.

I wondered what it would be like to fly now that the pandemic has taken its toll on normality. We've returned to it, but it's a hybrid.

Everyone wore masks inside the airport. Makes sense. You can't observe social distancing, especially as flights are called. You can try, as I did, but there's a problem: There are other people in the world, too.

So there you sit, waiting to be called, having to wear a mask even though you've gotten the required two shots and there's news that maybe that's all you ever have to worry about, again--that you'll die, of course, but not from Covid-19. But people didn't show the relief.

Instead, they seemed strained. They threw themselves over the gate chairs as if they were the final resting place. There was a sense of exhaustion.

Also makes sense. It's taken an extra storage of energy to get through this. There should be a national nap time lasting about a week. We need a nap.

We need a break from considering that the reason why the masks are still required is that about one-third of the country thinks its personal freedoms are more important than public health--maintaining their very existence. Face it: Those people wear us out.

I'm reading some Isaiah Berlin, who isn't exactly Erma Bombeck. He takes some concentration and it's tough to get a laugh out of his writing. But in the end, he boils things down pretty understandably. To wit: There are two kinds of freedom. They eventually overlap, and the basic conflict between people takes place where they do. And they explain why being in an airport is, well, awkward.

There is freedom to do things, Berlin writes, and freedom to avoid things. The two are not the same, until they are.

Let us take masks, for instance. Please. Take them. I'm betting that you, like me, are getting quite tired of them. And around where I live, masks are being liberally discarded, since people have gotten their shots.

The new normal? I resist. I want to be free from masks. But I also want to be free to walk around. The two rub up against each other in an airport.

They're taking no chances, either. Walk around without a mask, and they'll escort you right out. But people are sneaky; they aren't wearing their masks every second inside the airport. I can tell you that I didn't.

Why not? As I've said, I have my shots. I trust their potency. I'm feeling fine. The chances of me getting something to spread to others is extremely low. Nothing is certain and the virus continues not to care, but you can drive yourself into quite the state of paranoia if you keep fearing the worst.

And yet and yet: Entering an airport increases the odds of sickness anyhow. In the days in which I was flying a lot, I would come down with wicked sinus infections, no doubt from the air filtration systems of airplanes. There were awful poundings of pressure in my head. 

So you play this game with yourself: I'll put the mask down if nobody's around. No reason to worry about spreading stuff. When people get near, I'll be considerate because they can't be sure about me, either.

Don't think of me as particularly persnickety or naturally resistant (though I am). The airlines play the same games. They still pass out free water (sorry, no ice because someone at some point would have to touch it) or juice or soda on their flights, as well as those token pretzels in the phony agreement that assumes they've fed you. 

So how to get that past the mask? They simply say it's okay to put the mask down to eat and drink.

But wouldn't that defeat the purpose of the mask? Well, not exactly, if you've been keeping track. It's the spray from one's voice or breath that serves as the greatest spreader of the virus, but it has to happen, apparently, on a continuous basis for about 15 minutes.

I mean, I would have had to get up in the face of the guy sitting next to me reading Sean Hannity's screed Live Free or Die, at which I sneaked a couple of looks. I decided that Hannity tries to sound like an intellectual (good for him), but like many of his ilk, decides to cherry-pick famous writings with which he automatically agrees and/or spins so that they sound as if he's been right all along or as smart as those philosophers (he certainly isn't). 

It took some serious self-control but I figured: Forget it. Won't change his mind, especially if he's gone out of his way to get a book with which he already agrees. At least he was smart enough to get it from a library instead of dropping thirty bucks or so. He's got horse sense, I figured: Something you can tip your hat to. It's a big country. Too many stories of rowdy flights, anyhow. No sense adding another one.

Otherwise, the airlines figure that, well, you only have those little cookies or a small bag of pretzels, and nearly no one asks for a second cup of water, so--everybody will, in all likelihood, be done consuming whatever in 15 minutes. There: safe. No lawsuits. Masks back up, please.

One thousand counties have a vaccination rate of less than 30 percent, says CNN. We, and our processes, are being held hostage by that. Instead of having cards saying you've had shots, now people should have cards which, on demand, say that they haven't. "Back to normal" is being blocked by them and their selfishness. It's a big country. It's a big hybrid.

The variant awaits, too. In the meantime, if you want protection, get on a plane. Happy Fourth of July.

Be well. Be careful. With some luck, I'll see you down the road.

Mister Mark