Out of Covid
By Ann Christoph
In March of 2020, when the Covid lockdown began, I asked my doctor, “How long do you think this will last?
A month? Two months?” How could we know that this pandemic would make a 3-year hole in our lives?
Not that I wasn’t doing anything—I was busy in the office every day. I saw it as an opportunity to work on the South Laguna history book project we started over 20 years ago. Some quiet time to really dig in and finish it! I thought one to two months should be enough to pull it together. I was totally absorbed in it, there with the door locked, no one else in the office, no distracting meetings or requests.
I did make progress, but not as fast or as much as I hoped. But I became used to the isolation. Online meetings crept into my solitude, but it’s as though those people on the screen were not as real as they once were when I could see them in person.
Now that we are more or less back to normal, it was time for my first trip “abroad”—to Phoenix for a family party. I wasn’t expecting the changes that happened while I was staying close to home with my isolating routine.
Starbucks is no longer at Terminal 4 at Orange County Airport. It’s been replaced by another coffee business—that was not doing much business. Can’t use that gift card. The flight was crowded but the same as ever. Then the awakening started. There’s a whole new terminal addition in Phoenix. New signs, new pathways. “Well, I know how to get the rental car shuttle,” I said to myself. Out in the heat, out to the median strip where we had always found it. But no, we were told, “Oh, it’s not here. You have to get the train. Go back to the terminal and look for the signs.” How did they build all this stuff while we were secluded at home?
Long walk to find the train on-boarding platform. Odd signs, “This train is out of service.” Alternating with, “Stand back to allow passengers to exit.” But the doors were closed, and no passengers were seen. Someone in a uniform said, “Get on this train”—the one on the other side of the platform. So all of us sheep trudged onto the other train. As soon as it started moving, one passenger called, “Oh no, this train is going the wrong way!” Of course, there’s no staff in charge of the car. We are all just encapsulated in this automatic device, waiting for the next thing to happen.
Most of us stand up, trying to manage our luggage, grasping rails and posts. Then there was another new experience. “Ma’am, would you like my seat?” This came from a man on one of just a few seats at the end of the car. How nice, but also just as bad as the first time someone in the market called me “Ma’am” instead of “Miss.” Yes, Ann, you are three years older, and your hair is gray.
It’s long too. I had decided to forgo visits to the salon during the pandemic.
Oh no! I have changed too. People are seeing me as older than before.
Arrive at the wrong-way station. We’re told to get on the other train, which eventually brings us to the rental car center.
Our rental car had a “key” that sits in the cup holder and a push-button starter. Foot on the brake. It started. Fine. There were detours and ramps under construction, making most of the signs incorrect. They must be taking advantage of the slow tourist season in summer and doing all their construction at once. But we found our way to the hotel and checked in. Back in the hot parking lot, I pressed the unlock symbol on the key fob, no response. Car would not unlock. So I went back to the desk clerk for help. So nice, she came back out with me. “Sometimes you need to press it twice to make it work,” she suggested.
No response. Then she looked up, “This is not your car! See the flashing lights on that car over there?”
Wow! Alfredo’s sister’s house is still in the same place, and she has some quesadillas to bridge the gap between California breakfast and the 4 p.m. arrival at her house. She drove us to the Knights of Columbus hall for Alfredo’s cousin’s 80th birthday, complete with long-unseen relatives, mariachis and familiar Mexican food.
The best part of the trip.
Pulled back into the hotel parking lot and pressed the “start” button to turn the car off. The engine stopped, but the dash lights stayed on, and it wouldn’t let me lock the car. Not another problem! I called the desk and again asked for help. They sent an accommodating young man who got in the car, started it up again, and turned it off. This time it was completely off, and I could lock the car. “Sometimes they do that. If you don’t push the button down completely, it doesn’t turn all the way off.” Should have known, the answer to phone and computer problems is to turn them off, wait 10 seconds and then turn them back on again. The technology fix.
It was a comfort to return to Laguna, where our lives have just enough technology to cope but not too much. With my nearly 40-year-old BMW that I know how to start and turn off. Where we can enjoy the friendliness and permanent feeling of our 100-year-old artist colony. Where the things that we value can stay the same and where we can always use human-powered relationships to improve and beautify what nature and our predecessors have given us. Now out of isolation, seeing each other in person, we can move forward with renewed energy. Live it and love it.
Ann is a landscape architect and former Laguna Beach mayor. She is also a long-time board member of Village Laguna, Inc.
