I NEVER thought I’d feel emotional at the sight of satay but I am told that at 41,000 feet, cabin pressure does something to your senses so you cry more easily over movies (The Father is best watched when alone) and, in this case, familiar skewers of chicken coated with spicy peanut sauce.
It’s my first flight since March 2020 and the ritual of flying with Singapore Airlines felt oddly surreal yet familiar, almost like a homecoming of sorts.
As with most things, it’s the waiting and preparation that is most fraught with anxiety. Making sure you get all the paperwork in place because everyone has told you how different it all is now as well as everything you’ve read – download apps, print everything (in case), that unnecessarily long wait for the PCR departure test (call me for tips) and an attestation form required by SIA to declare your negative PCR test.
After that, your unused but highly trained “traveller” muscle kicks in. On check-in, I am asked for my vaccination certificate, attestation form, US visa and US address. The airport is depressingly quiet. At the lounge, which is reassuringly fuller than I expected, it’s all digital now – order food via QR code, no open buffet, as little contact between you and staff as possible. Onboard too, you get free wifi for two hours and you can view the inflight menu, shop and do stuff all online. Covid has forced airlines into the digital world.
Inflight, however, it felt to me more personal than usual, or maybe that’s just because I’ve been so starved of customer service, especially that of Singapore Airlines’. You feel an odd sense of camaraderie with the crew and fellow passengers, possibly because we’ve all gone through the same thing together.
The stewardess serving the satay wears goggles, mask and gloves, but her eyes are smiling, crinkling at the edges. We have all aged together through this too and it’s so reassuring the Singapore Girl is no longer as perfect as she was. I said it must hard to be masked throughout the 18-hour flight and she said, “Yes, but most important is safety.” In that response, she is still perfect.
The man seated behind me tells me it is also his first flight in 20 months and he spent most of the flight looking at photos of his grandchildren who live in New York. On disembarkation, he was so impatient to get off he kept tutting but everyone smiled and made way because we all understood.
At immigration, the officer checked my visa which is in my old passport and looked at all the stamps. Then he looked at my brand new passport (renewed in September) and said, “I hope this fills up as well.” He doesn’t ask for my vaccination certificate or anything else, just said, “Welcome to New York.”
Feels we are all united in empathy.
At The Library Hotel, where I last stayed in December 2019, the receptionist tells me business started coming back in fuller swing from October. “It’s been tough,” she said, “but this weekend we are full. It feels good to be working again.”
It happens to be New York Marathon weekend, the first time the race is back in two years. The city is excited. On my morning walk through Bryant Park, winter skaters are up early and making circles in the ice. Sixth Avenue is closed to traffic and I walk alongside runners, residents and tourists, and officials out to ensure a smooth race.
Out on the streets, people are out and about, some in masks, some without. You see Covid testing booths at strategic locations. At Whole Foods, they require proof of vaccination for you to be seated in their café, but other more casual cafes do not require it. Restaurants, theatres and bars also require proof of vaccination and the NYC Covid Safe app, in which I have loaded my photo ID and certificate, works well. You are required to be masked throughout performances in the theatre and it was interesting to hear the ushers call out, during intermission, “Please do not remove your masks or eat and drink.”
Felt like I was back in Singapore except there are no capacity restrictions. Restaurants and the performances I went to were packed. The famous Smith at Lincoln Centre restaurant has built Plexi-glass fixtures between tables. This city, because it was hit so hard at the start, is taking a more cautious approach to reopening, I was told by New Yorkers. It’s not a free-for-all unlike other places, they warn me.
My messages from friends in Singapore are mostly about “stay safe”, “keep safe” and “be careful”. Oddly familiar really because in days of yore, you got these messages because family and friends worry about safety in big cities like New York, now the worry is about something else.
It seems if we let ourselves worry, we will always find something to worry about. After 911, it was shoes and water bottles. Now it’s something we can’t see.
For now, it feels good to see steam rising from the sewers, hear the frequent sirens and alarms of a city come back to life and smell the shish kebab and hot dogs wafting from the numerous stalls parked outside Grand Central Station.
In Pret-A-Manger, I sip my almond latte and have my croissant while I admire the two well-behaved dogs sitting at the corner with their owner. It feels oddly surreal yet familiar.
I can’t wait for life to unfold before me as I begin my journey through a United States of America coming back to life.
