The Roller Coaster Ride
By Jordan Banks
Published on July 22, 2020
Every year for a good 15 years, my family went to Branson, a tourist town in Southwestern Missouri, for summer vacation. There we enjoyed a variety of activities such as water parks, go karts, and shows. But my favorite was always Silver Dollar City, an 1880s-themed amusement park. Thrill-seeking as I was, I loved riding the roller coasters for hours on end. Overcome with anticipation, I would squirm with excitement as the car inched upward until we reached the top. Then, always seeming to catch me off guard, we would lurch forward, falling for what seemed like forever before speeding back up again. At the end, heart racing, we would screech to a halt right where we began. Little did I know that the last few months of my Fulbright grant would be akin to my childhood roller coaster rides.
On March 7, 2020 I headed back to Lappeenranta from a weeklong trip in Lapland. On March 10th I baked a cake and celebrated a friend’s birthday. On March 14th I attended a game night. And on March 16th, I embarked on the 15-hour journey back home to the United States.
On Sunday, March 15th I read an article about how just the day before, crowds of people were waiting for up to 10 hours to get through Chicago O’Hare airport, one of the 13 airports that those returning were required to pass through for the new Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) screening. I used this as ammunition against my mom and sister’s votes that I should come home; “Isn’t traveling how one contracts and spreads coronavirus, why would I do that?”
Later in the day, I sat in my girlfriend’s apartment and made a pros and cons list to help decide whether I should stay or leave. In terms of leaving, which I was leaning against at the time, I noted:
- Pro:
- Being with family during this uncertain time.
- Cons:
- Putting myself at higher risk of the virus by traveling.
- Disrupting my life with my friends, girlfriend, and studies.
- Paying rent though not living in my apartment.
Despite my clearly unequal list, favoring me to stay in Finland, one question entered my mind that I couldn’t ignore: What if something happens to my family and I can’t fly home later? This was quickly reiterated in my teary video chat with my parents a few hours later. I succumbed and promised to look for flights home. First I did a general Google search for flights, finding the cheapest at $600 for Wednesday. Then I remembered I already had a flight booked to visit home for a few weeks in May. Initially I found a Thursday flight but was worried it would be cancelled. Rightfully so, because later that night my airline released a statement saying: starting tomorrow, most of their flights would be put on hold. When I stumbled upon the Monday flight, I knew I had to take it. For a $100 rebooking fee (this was before airlines shifted to their free rebooking model), I booked a flight home, which was less than 24 hours later. My girlfriend and I scrambled to pack my essentials and spent a few more fleeting hours together.
"One image I can’t get out of my mind was the older couple wearing face masks, bandanas, and laboratory goggles."
(Not so) bright and early on Monday, March 16th, I left for the 6:38 a.m. train to Helsinki Airport, which was fairly empty but not quite a ghost town. At 11:20 a.m. I flew to Stockholm, a small plane about half full. In this airport I was not as impressed with people’s social distancing skills and had to keep moving away from people who sat down next to me right after I found an isolated spot. After a two-hour layover, my next flight was to Copenhagen. The bigger plane was about three-quarters full. (And yes, if you’re familiar with the geography of Northern Europe, you’ll know this flight path doesn’t make sense. The direct Helsinki to Copenhagen flight, which took off as I arrived to the gate in Helsinki, was too early based on my train’s arrival.) One image I can’t get out of my mind was the older couple wearing face masks, bandanas, and laboratory goggles. They must have been terrified since I, a young and healthy person, was fairly terrified myself.
In Copenhagen, I had to go through a special check and wait in a closed off, single-entry gate, as only U.S. citizens and permanent residents were allowed to fly back. Finally it was time for the flight. As we flew off, I spotted my first offshore wind farm in the distance, a striking contrast to the massive three section by three row by three seat plane carrying maybe a third of its capacity. The amount of wasted fuel didn’t sit well with me, but I did appreciate my distance from others. Upon sitting down I sanitized the screen, table, and arm rest as well as I could. Despite having (more than) three seats to myself and only sleeping a few hours the night before, I couldn’t sleep for the duration of the nine-hour flight, my usual predicament. Along with the normal customs form, we were given a COVID-19 specific health and travel assessment to fill out. After arriving in Chicago O’Hare around 7 p.m., we went through customs, had our temperatures taken, and were given information by the surprisingly cheery CDC staff. Fortunately both processes lasted only five minutes, a huge relief after the crowds and hours of waiting that happened only on Saturday, according to the article I read the day before. Exhausted after nearly 20 hours of traveling, I collected my luggage and stayed at the airport hotel for the night.
Even though I was already sleep deprived, I woke up at 3 a.m. the next morning. My last meal was a light breakfast (dinner?) on the plane, so I was pretty hungry. After 6 a.m. I called room service to order food but was disappointed to find out that they weren’t serving. In my opinion, room service would have been safer since possibly infected people (me) wouldn’t be spreading the virus in the hotel restaurant / cafe and the delivery could easily be no-contact. Alas, I settled on the room’s coffee and some cookies I brought back from Finland. A few hours later my parents picked me up, relief flooding me to see them safe. Then we drove five hours back home to St. Louis, where we would begin our two weeks of quarantine.
While in quarantine, I went through the emotional roller coaster that so many have experienced these past several months. Waxing and waning anxiety, grieving normalcy, and missing loved ones, all while recognizing my privilege of having a warm and safe home to quarantine in.
As a fairly affectionate family, it felt weird to only half/air-hug my parents a few times while being home. In the six years since I graduated high school and have been away to college, I have always made a point of seeing as many extended family members and friends as possible when I come home for a visit, so this felt downright wrong. Still, I knew how crucial quarantining was. Even though our German Shepherd puppy, Star, is a bit of a menace, it was nice to hug and cuddle with a living being during this time.
"I knew I’d return to Finland eventually to finish up my master’s degree and engage in the university research that would help determine my career path."
On March 19th the worldwide Fulbright program was officially suspended, the same day the Global Level 4 Health Advisory was issued. Fulbright Finland reported that 23 out of 34 grantees in Finland returned home. I knew I’d return to Finland eventually to finish up my master’s degree and engage in the university research that would help determine my career path. But some Fulbrighters, whose grant term ended in a few months, had to pack up everything and leave for good. What a tragic way to end such a wonderful program. I, with much gratitude, was able to finish courses online, with only a few time difference hiccups, such as having to take an exam at midnight. A few days before leaving, I secured a summer job at the university as a junior research assistant. Thankfully I was able to start this remotely.
On March 23rd the City of St. Louis issued a stay-at-home order, meaning when our quarantine ended on April 1st, our only change was going to the grocery store. The following day I went on my first shopping trip for St. Louis Quarantine Support, a group of volunteers delivering groceries and necessities to high-risk individuals. This was my first time leaving the house (and wearing real clothes) in two weeks. Though I really wanted to help in this way (and tried again the next day), I just wasn’t ready, noticing a drastic spike in anxiety as I feared contracting the virus every time someone wheeled their cart past me. Instead, I decided on a less direct route of attempting to positively impact the community. I made recycled cereal / snack box notebooks for the kids at my old daycare. Hopefully they will bring some light. The stay-at-home order officially ended on May 18th, but again, that did not impact my routine much. The pandemic was far from over, and I recognized the importance of limiting the spread.
"I was also grateful for this time to slow down a bit and really appreciate life for what it is – a blessing."
Though it was rough, I still found joy in these times. Getting back into hobbies like reading, puzzling, and making paper; reconnecting with my old church community through online services, movie nights, and gaming sessions; video chatting with my friends, girlfriend, and family, including a Zoom Easter; playing board games and croquet with my parents; and discovering that the VCR still works – watching nostalgic movies and home videos. And more. Though I will be incredibly glad when the coronavirus has phased out and things return back to “normal,” I was also grateful for this time to slow down a bit and really appreciate life for what it is – a blessing.
Despite my appreciation for this period of leisure, for weeks I endured the emotional turmoil of waiting, calling, and constantly checking the Scandinavian Airlines website. My original May 30th flight was cancelled and the rescheduled June 8th flight was cancelled as well. After the second cancellation, I discovered that my best option was a 23-hour, 3-layover journey on June 11th, the alternative being “maybe July 3rd.” I am glad I came home but was ready to continue my life in Finland, which came to an abrupt halt nearly three months ago.
After getting over my nerves about possibly being rejected entry and the long lines at O’Hare Airport, the journey back to Finland went smoothly. Past security, the airports were fairly empty. Everyone wore a mask, and I also opted to wear safety glasses for an added layer of protection. The flights ranged from 50% to 75% full, but I was lucky enough not to sit next to anyone during any of the four flights. We efficiently boarded from the back a few rows at a time, which is a practice I can see continuing after the pandemic ends. Exhausted, I arrived to a sunny and warm Helsinki, where my lovely girlfriend brought me food before my train ride back to Lappeenranta.
Upon my return I spent another two weeks in quarantine, which was easier the second time around. Though still worried about the deteriorating conditions in the United States, a sense of calm washed over me, with new coronavirus cases in Finland nearly stalled and activities beginning to return to usual. I continued to work remotely for the first few weeks and eventually was able to physically go into the lab, my main interest in the summer work. In mid-July I spent a week at a summer cottage with my girlfriend and some friends. Though it had electricity, the cottage did not have running water so we used well and rainwater. We played games, chopped firewood, went to the beach, and enjoyed sauna every night. It was simple and relaxing- exactly what I needed. At least for now, it seems that the roller coaster ride has ended.
