When this month started, the main objective in my mind was to relax and have fun on a consistent basis. The academic side of me had dissipated. I set up a plateful of opportunities to unplug my brain from the constant meetings, writing and long conversations. I took my first breather by going to an OKC thunder game. They were playing the Clippers in Kawhi Leonard's first year with the team. My partner and I were celebrating our anniversary. I had almost forgotten the place my head escapes to when I watch sports. This was my first live basketball game since October, and I felt relaxed again. I somehow, sitting in that seat, took some deep breaths and felt just a smaller sliver of relief within me.
That period of relief only seemed to last a few weeks. Just a month prior, when I was trying to figure out GaylordStrong, my PR chair texted me asking about anyone I knew who had information for her newest story she was doing over something spreading around called the coronavirus. I couldn’t find anyone close to me who had information on it. At the time, I was a bit curious about the story, I heard it came from Wuhan, China and that it was killing citizens and the origin of it was still unknown. I wasn’t that worried about it. I was so lost in everything else, that I figured it would just either go away, or it wouldn’t be as big of a problem. I didn’t expand any research of my own on it. I didn’t even google the word at the time.
Fast forward now, to just a week after my anniversary, and I’m sitting on the ground of my dorm room just days before I leave for my flight, contemplating going…because the World Health Organization had categorized the coronavirus as a Pandemic. I sat on my bed, just clicking through my current Airbnb reservation, deciding to still go with my partner, knowing that we both just wanted to give ourselves a much-needed vacation no matter what. I texted my best friend who was picking us up the next day and told him when to get us. I didn’t hesitate that much with the decision.
It seemed to just come out of nowhere. The death toll was stacking quickly and mass hysteria and confusion over the virus at the beginning of the week of our vacation was evident.
While the hysteria was going on around the world, I calmly sat on my flight as we flew from OKC to Boston. I felt like nothing else was happening around me, almost like it was all a dream, hoping that the news and numbers would eventually go away. I followed everything that the professionals told me to do. Wear a mask, stay six feet, etc. “We’ve got to stay safe no matter what,” I told her. That was all I said about the virus the entire flight there. Here we were, on a trip we planned just a few months ago when I was in desperate need of some time to get in touch with a place I used to call home was finally happening again.
Spending a few days back where I was born, where I worshipped the teams, the culture and the environment was lovely. The old-school feel of almost ancient America gave me the feeling of wanting to immediately move there.
However, practically nobody was there. The streets were desolate. It felt like we rented out Boston just for ourselves. The roads were easier to navigate, and the malls and shops weren’t as crowded by tourists as usual. This was my first taste of seeing "the world" beginning to shut down. Before this, it was just Norman and the University feeling empty. Traveling across states and seeing virtually the same thing, made me realize the severity of the virus' impact.
Seeing an entire different city as a ghost town had an eerie, yet reserved aura about it. In a strange way, it made our walks through Prudential Center, and our strolls through Common park feel more intimate and breathtaking.
The cruise we went on was the epicenter of all my calmness. As I leaned over the railing of the back of the ship and listened in on our well-spoken tour-guides facts and history of the city, I felt like I was home, even though I hadn’t had a residence here since I was a child. I always am questioned about my "hometown" because I spent only a few years of my childhood here, but this reminded me why I always see where I myself feel the most comfortable at. To this day, I hold onto that moment, when everything in the world was beginning to shut down and close itself off, I didn’t picture or think where I would be next, just where I was in the moment.
I got to enjoy the food again and the scenery, and I got to have fun just like I wanted to. The Airbnb we got (which we switched to new one in the airport) was magnificent, and made the crumbling of the world around us almost feel close to non-existent.
The trip ended abruptly after we saw how fast other countries were beginning to shut-down, as mass amounts of people were becoming infected. We thought it was a good idea to watch the film Contagion. (I know, what a terrible idea, but I know we weren't the only ones). It didn’t help my mindset about what was going forward either.
Immediately after the film, we looked at each other, and got the next flight at five a.m. back to Texas.
When we returned home early to my mother’s house from my trip in Boston, we took a day to visit my old high school. I knew that when I went back to the OU campus to finish my education, that it wouldn’t be the same. I didn’t want to be a student again; I had no desire to learn from a computer or even see anyone’s face for a while. The world ‘quarantine’ rang through my ears at least a hundred times a day, reminding me that this was “survival of the fittest” as I called it whenever there was a moment I felt I wasn’t following protocols and worldwide instruction correctly.
As I saw people rushing to stores on television grabbing all the hand sanitizer, disinfection wipes and gloves they could, I found it hard to even find toilet paper. I was puzzled seeing the amount of toilet paper gone from shelves or just not available. I questioned it internally “do people crap this much when they’re stuck at home?” It was a lighthearted moment in many moments of disarray.
When I opened the doors of the dorm room back on the empty campus of OU, little did I know that I would never be a student in the classroom again. I never again would feel like a true student. The era of Zoom had begun, and I, as well as many others weren't ready for it. Adapting was the agenda, but I wasn’t ready for adjustment. I laid in my bed, hours on end for the rest of the spring break, desperately piecing together how I was going to have the confidence to finish this school year properly, knowing my room was the classroom.
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