My First Flight in the Pandemic

A detailed account of what it was like to fly during coronavirus.

Finally, after seven months straight in South Africa — seven months of physical distancing; seven months of levels 1–5; seven months of masks at all times; seven months of hand sanitizer; seven months of no alcohol, then alcohol, then no alcohol, and finally alcohol again — I hopped onto a plane and left Cape Town.

I flew to Johannesburg.

Unlike countries like the United States where domestic travel never stopped, those of us in the Rainbow Nation weren’t able to fly domestically, for leisure, except in the last month or so. This was part of the government’s swift and strict response to COVID-19, with the hope that by restricting local travel both by car and plane, folks would be encouraged to stay at home and stay alive.

The flight from Cape Town to Johannesburg is a mere two hours so I didn’t fly far, but it was still my first time on a plane in months. Reflecting on my globetrotting, nomadic lifestyle pre-rona where I was on a plane to a different country ever single month (in the first two months of the year before the pandemic swept through SA, I was in Tanzania, Uganda, Zambia, and Zimbabwe), this little flight to Jozi was nothing for me to sleep on.