I’ll still wear a mask on planes... but not in the pub. Explain that!
WE have reached another milestone in the return to what now passes for normal life, though it is one that many will find a little less welcome than others that have gone before. Yesterday, it was announced that the mandatory requirement for mask-wearing in airports and on flights in Europe will be dropped from this coming Monday.
The decision was jointly made by the European Union Aviation Safety Agency (EASA) and the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control (ECDC), though with a few caveats. Patrick Ky, the executive director of EASA, said that anyone displaying symptoms of the common cold, such as coughing or sneezing, should strongly consider wearing a mask, while the ECDC’s Andrea Ammon said vulnerable passengers should keep wearing FFP2/KN95 masks, practise good hand hygiene, and maintain physical distancing.
As it happens, ever since things began to open up after the vaccination programme kicked in, I was never all that worried about catching Covid on flights anyway. The filtration systems on modern aircraft completely change the air in the cabin every two to three minutes and, as we all know, ventilation is key to keeping public spaces safe.
Sneeze
Since last August, when I started back travelling for the first time in 18 months, I’ve taken 25 flights, most of which were full to capacity, and I’ve had no issues. Despite the requirement to wear masks, many passengers spent much of their time in the air without them, because you’re allowed remove them to eat and drink. Yes, the odd cough or sneeze from the seat behind galvanised me a little more than it might have done in the past, but if people have learned anything in these past two years, it is to at least do both into the crook of their arms. If they had done this before Covid, we probably would have escaped a lot of the more traditional winter respiratory diseases too.
There will, I am sure, be some among you who will lament the end of the mask mandate on aircraft. The pandemic is not over, and most if not all of us know now that, among our friends, a bout with Covid goes one of two ways. Either it is mild to the point of almost asymptomatic, or it is an awful dose that can leave patients suffering muscle pain and fatigue for weeks. In other cases, it even can develop into long Covid that manifests in symptoms ranging from chest pain to insomnia, nausea to so-called brain fog. No one I know who has long Covid speaks of it as anything other than debilitating and dispiriting, because there is no one-size-fitsall for its severity or duration.
What yesterday’s decision on masking also means, though, is something a little more fundamental. It has taken time for us to learn this, but from the day Covid became an issue on these shores, we became used to being told what to do. How many times did we all check on the internet to see exactly what was different about Level Four that hadn’t been required in Level Three? How often did we use 2kmfromhome.com to see how far we could roam, then check again when the radius was extended to 5km and later to 20km?
To an extent, we became infantilised, in a way we really hadn’t been since we actually were children. As I have told you before, the days I hated most were the ones leading up to the next announcement of restrictions, because it triggered memories of those weekends before you went back to school and knew there was a Monday morning chastisement lying in wait. Letting it play in your mind was worse than the short, sharp shock that was delivered.
Now, though, no one is telling us what to do anymore, and for some among us, that is understandably scary. It’s like reaching the age of maturity all over again, and facing the reality that the only person responsible for your life is yourself.
I was amused to learn that one of Vladimir Putin’s adult daughters is called Katerina Tikhonova. You could have a field day ribbing her over that. ‘How are things today, Katerina?’ you would ask. And she would answer: ‘Oh, you know, just… dammit, you got me again.’
Logic
There are, of course, still risks. Any public outing carries an element of jeopardy, because the particles of virus are no more visible now than they ever were and, with others around us dropping their guard, there no longer is the comforting aura of solidarity we came to expect in early 2020. Last week, even those with symptomatic Covid were allowed break their quarantine to vote in the Northern Ireland Assembly election, a dispensation unthinkable even a few months ago. With testing also gone largely by the wayside, many who have symptoms aren’t even bothering to self-isolate.
For these reasons, my own protocols vary by situation, and often have no root in logic. I continue to wear my mask in the supermarket, even though my local Tesco Extra is the size of a sports arena, but I also have been to the pub, maskless, and it is a small country premises with a low ceiling and little ventilation at all. I usually meet friends on Monday nights when the place is not heaving, and that seems a happy medium between locking myself out of social interaction entirely and what might end up as carelessness.
So, no, I’m not concerned about flying now that the mask mandate is being consigned to the past. Personally, I will choose to wear an FFP2, because it doesn’t bother me, and every added layer of protection, for others as well as for myself, just seems like common sense.
We still haven’t hit upon the exact protocols for living with Covid so, increasingly, it looks like they’re our own to make up, because no one is going to tell us.