Taking flight
As borders reopen, we meet the hardy young travellers battling Covid hurdles to jet off on their OEs
‘‘Where are your passenger locator forms?’’ asked the Singapore Airlines check-in officer.
I stared back, our passports in my outstretched hand. He repeated the question, a little louder this time. ‘‘You need to complete the form and prove that you’ve purchased a PCR Covid test before we can let you on the flight.’’
Our flight to Singapore was due to depart in two hours. But instead of excitement, shockwaves were shooting down my spine. We had forgotten to buy the tests and our locator forms were incomplete.
The next 15 minutes were a panic-induced blur of furious typing while hunched over our laptop. It would have been an entertaining sideshow for our fellow passengers.
There’s no reality check quite like realising one oversight could throw the biggest adventure of your life into turmoil. I hadn’t felt this fear and uncertainty since New Zealand first went into lockdown more than a year ago. That’s when our plans for an OE were dashed.
But this wasn’t 2020; our plans had been revived. However, we were about to leave an oasis where people could enjoy nearunmatched freedoms. The dull ache of anxiety was creeping back in. Fortunately we managed to book our Covid tests, finish the paperwork, and board the plane. But the unease remained. Over months we perfected the sales pitch for concerned friends and family. Our decision to leave was not one we considered lightly. We had been planning our OE for about two years before Covid. We scrimped, saved and sacrificed.
In March 2020, a month before we were set to go, that was all ripped away. It was an emotional kick in the guts. But instead of dashing our dreams, it only reinforced them. With both of us pushing 30, we didn’t want to harbour any regrets over missed opportunities.
The extra year in New Zealand also meant an extra year of saving. If we went and failed, we would have enough for flights home and managed isolation.
What really solidified our decision was that we’re both dual
New Zealand and Irish citizens. That meant access to the UK’s National Health Service and Covid vaccination programme. It also means unrestricted access to the UK and Europe. With countries starting to reopen, it was just too tempting to ignore.
That sales pitch was now playing on repeat in my head as we boarded the plane. But I didn’t need to worry. The 10-hour trip from Auckland to Singapore was the best flight I’ve ever had. We shared our section of the plane with just 12 others socially distanced in their own rows.
We had extra space to stretch out, meals in record time and a very attentive flight crew. Firstclass legroom, for an economyprice ticket. But the windfalls of one flight lulled us into a false sense of security.
The anxiety returned the moment we arrived at Changi Airport. Passengers were greeted by workers dressed in PPE from head to toe, more like stepping into a hospital than an airport. Peeking gingerly down the terminal I spotted luggage trolleys, duty-free stores and food courts.
The lights were on, but no-one was home. One of the world’s most recognisable airports, large enough to cater to 80 million passengers every year, reduced to an echo chamber of nervous footsteps. I tried to imagine it with crowds as we walked to our next gate, but couldn’t. It was another reality check that the pandemic was still raging beyond New Zealand’s borders.
More PPE-clad figures met us at the next terminal. A security checkpoint stood between us and our flight to London, but we had to wait. A group tagged with green wristbands was herded in before us. Airport staff said they were from a high-risk country, and they didn’t want us to mix. Not that it mattered. On the plane, people were packed in like sardines with green wristbands dotted everywhere.
For the next 14 hours, every cough, sneeze or sniffle got the anxiety levels surging. We went through two bottles of hand sanitiser by the time we touched down at Heathrow Airport. It was here that I expected the final hurdle. I had read articles about three-hour wait times at Customs and hefty fines being issued for incorrect paperwork. However, that final hurdle never came. We sailed through Customs, jumped on the train, dumped the bags at our Brixton Airbnb and, before we knew it, we were waltzing through Westminster.
It didn’t take long to conform to the social norms. Covid is still a very present companion in London. Mask-wearing is mandatory on public transport, in many shops and in public buildings.
However, the anxiety that plagued the 26-hour journey to get here is now gone. The short time we’ve been here has affirmed that we made the right choice. We’re eating out, seeing the sights and enjoying ourselves while sticking to government guidelines.
There’s a chance restrictions could return, but I’m hopeful the world will slowly reopen.
However, if international travel is on the horizon, remember to complete a passenger locator form.
The lights were on, but no-one was home . . . another reality check that the pandemic was still raging beyond New Zealand’s borders.