I learned my travel lesson — now our leaders need to learn theirs
Last March, I took my kids on a March break trip to Mexico. We left a couple of days after Ontario Premier Doug Ford encouraged people to follow through on their travel plans, despite rising coronavirus cases around the world. My wife and I fretted about it for days but ultimately decided it was worth the risk.
It was a terrible decision. A day after we left — my wife stayed home due to work responsibilities — the Canadian government recommended against international travel. Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s advice was that it was “time to come home.” But I couldn’t get through to Air Canada or change our flight online. The only other options involved a U.S. stopover in airports that were not exactly shining examples of efficiency or social distancing (then or now.)
We ended up staying for the duration, then taking a harrowing journey through a busy and chaotic Mexican airport, onto a packed flight and then through an eerily empty Pearson terminal. How early was this in the pandemic? Almost nobody on the flight, except for the attendants, wore masks.
It turned out fine. We quarantined at home for two weeks and nobody showed any symptoms of COVID-19. Still, I feel incredibly stupid, even shameful, that I put my kids at risk in exchange for the cheap beer and beach time I felt I deserved. With that in mind, I want to be careful about throwing stones from my glass condo by the Gulf of Mexico, the one with the pool and the glorious sunsets. But it was almost 10 months ago and my understanding of the burgeoning scope of the pandemic was limited. What I truly don’t understand? How politicians from across the country can possibly justify their recent spate of jetset behaviour.
Former Ontario finance minister Rod Phillips, who resigned after a Christmas vacation to one of the most expensive places on Earth, St. Bart’s, is the one whose idiocy has unintentionally revealed that politicians all over Canada, and from every political stripe, have been zipping around the globe for all kinds of dubious reasons.
Some, such as those who went to visit sick relatives, feel more justified than others — until you remember that countless people have watched their loved ones die alone because of COVID restrictions. Others have been denied funerals. Twitter timelines are packed with people experiencing tremendous loss or making remarkable sacrifices in the battle against the pandemic. Those people deserve a holiday in St. Bart’s and won’t get one (even if they could afford it, which they probably can’t.)
My family’s sacrifices have been pale by comparison. But my wife was in tears on Christmas Day because she couldn’t see her mother, brother and young niece. I didn’t see my parents either. My older kid and I had a bucket-list trip to Europe cancelled. My younger one is not having the Grade 9 experience he was hoping for. We haven’t eaten inside a restaurant since we were in Mexico.
The hypocrisy of these politicians is rage-inducing but perhaps even more troubling is the message it sends to the segment of the population still having trouble taking this seriously, the ones who continue to pooh-pooh social distancing and mask wearing, the ones who will resist taking a vaccine. If our leaders can’t lead by example, it’s easier for everyone to follow their own selfish instincts.
And I should know: I went to Mexico when I shouldn’t have. But I learned my lesson and it’s about time our political leaders — all of them — learned theirs.