Modern Travel: Fearing the Unknown Road
/I’m writing this article from 30,000 feet in the air, which is likely as strange for me to type as it is for you to read. It’s been a while; over two years to be exact. However, after being locked up alone in a condo in the GTA for over two years while writing a dissertation, I knew that I had to get out and get on the road again. However, I also knew that things were going to be different… and sadly, for the worse.
A lot has changed in two years. I’m not simply referring to the countless new travel protocols introduced during the pandemic, but also the backdrop of an increasingly aggressive and polarized global sociopolitical landscape that looks a lot more like the pre-war 30s than the golden 20s we all had hoped for after the pandemic. Things feel different out here.
Truth be told, the COVID protocols seem like the least of the changes. You get used to wearing a mask for a few hours. Security might have taken a bit longer, though I may also have just forgotten that it’s always been a bit of a slog. More planning, documentation, and testing is required for each trip. However, none of those things are really such a problem.
The differences I’m feeling on the road are social. After we all spent so much time locked up alone, the world feels a lot bigger. The people feel a lot stranger. Many of us gravitate more towards digital worlds than physically present ones. Our humanity feels further out of reach.
A woman was rushing through Pearson Airport and dropped her boarding pass. When I picked it up and called after her, she hesitated before reaching out and taking it back, looking upon her thin slip of paper as though it was scalding to the touch. As my neighbour sat beside me in seat 24C, I gave a courteous hello and asked how they were doing. I was met with a curt nod and eyes immediately forward as though the man beside me was suddenly aware of the microscopic particulate floating in the air between us. Throughout the plane, I watch people quickly and awkwardly eat their snacks with heavily sanitized hands, looking like wounded animals trapped in a corner.
We’re all afraid.
Ironically, many of us aren’t afraid of COVID anymore… at least not much. If we’ve made the decision to trap ourselves into an aluminum tube with a hundred or so people, we rationally know that the risk of transmission is low with multiple vaccinations and an N95 mask. And with each slightly weaker variant inching us one step closer to a true endemic stage of this global nightmare, we know that the consequence of infection is approaching the common cold for most. Logically, we know that we’re probably as safe now as we’ve ever been.
And yet the fear lingers. It lingers because we’ve spent more than two years building biases and behaviours to keep us safe. However, much like the fight-or-flight anxiety experienced by many in simple day-to-day work and social interactions, this fear no longer serves us. It now holds us back from loving, sharing, caring, and being the beautiful, social creatures that we all are. The fear is our animal instinct, and to overcome this fear is to restore our humanity.
I was probably one of the more COVID-conservative of my friends during the past two years and approached the idea of travel again quite trepidatiously. However, now that I’m out on the road, I see the dangers of this fear. But it doesn’t go away easily and requires the mindfulness to observe and comfort yourself in the face of it.
These words are far from a plea to throw caution to the wind and make foolish decisions. The pandemic is still very real and we need to do what we can to ensure that all of us – from the youngest to oldest – are safe. However, what we must ensure is that in our efforts to stay safe, we don’t lose apart of ourselves. Now, more than ever, is the time to be kind to those around you, to give to others expecting nothing in return, and to smile to your neighbour… even if your mask gets in the way.