Air travel in the era of COVID-19

OTTAWA—Watching the farms and highways of Ontario out of the oval windows of an Airbus A320, it’s easy to forget for a moment how COVID-19 has so thoroughly changed familiar routines.

From cruising altitude, the fields look as they always do, a bucolic quilt of greens and browns, shadows moving over them as the clouds cross underneath the sun.

But then, your field of vision goes blurry. Your glasses have fogged up, again, because of the mask you’ve had to wear from the moment you stepped into the airport.

Welcome to the dystopian experience that is air travel in the pandemic era.

At the Ottawa airport, circles dot the floors at check-in, at security and in the hallways to show where it is safe to stand.

With passenger air traffic nearly non-existent, boarding announcements are few and far between.

Instead, a cheerful but stern disembodied voice repeatedly reminds people to wash their hands, cough into their sleeves, and wear a mask.

In the departure lounge, seats are cordoned off so people don’t sit too close. As those who’ve chosen to take a midday flight to Toronto take every other spot, they’re kitted out in everything from homemade masks to full face shields.

The anticipatory energy normally buzzing at a gate ahead of a flight has morphed into an eerie sense that what’s at the end of the ramp isn’t a modern jet but a spaceship beaming people to an unknown world.

Dutiful queues form for a mandatory temperature check, and once past that, the normal scanning of boarding cards and checking of IDs. The gate agent asks for masks to briefly be pulled down so faces can be matched to photos. She tells one passenger there is a camera watching to make sure it’s done.

The musty smell of the airplane cabin is cut with the scent of cleaning solution, and the flight attendant smiles with her eyes, her bilingual “Hello! Bonjour!” greeting muffled by her mask.

Each passenger is handed a clear plastic bag with a face mask, rubber gloves, tiny bottle of hand sanitizer and cleansing wipes.

There’s a small bottle of water, too. Physical distancing restrictions mean no in-flight service.

There are no throngs of smiling family and friends waiting just outside the luggage carousels at Toronto’s Pearson international airport. No one but passengers and staff are allowed inside.

Stepping outside and into the sunshine, the deep inhale of fresh air after a flight feels even fresher without a mask blocking the way. It’s quiet and not just because there are few people, no screeching luggage carts, or idling cabs or shouting security officers.

There are also no roars from departing or landing jets.