3-17-20 - Welcome to Antigua!

The touch down on the Antigua runway elicits a giant fist pump from Kyle and Leanne throws her arms high in the air and spread wide in the victory position.  We collect our bag and head off the plane.  Medical screening and immigration are the only things standing between us and absolute and complete isolation in paradise.

As we enter the passport control area, a woman is there handing us a Coronavirus information card which has prevention and symptom information as well as a Coronavirus hotline number to call if you experience symptoms.  They have a medical station set up in the event anyone has symptoms.  There is no temperature scanning though which we would have preferred to see. 

Having cleared screening, we take our place on the passport control line.  We are not 10 people from it being our turn when Kyle cries out an, “oh crap!!! I left the 2nd carryon bag on the plane.” This is a very un-Kyle like logistical mistake but in the past week our bag situation has changed from flight to flight and he had a 2nd carry-on bag today that he hasn’t had for the previous 9 months.

Kyle goes running back off in the direction of the plane. He stops at the quarantine person to ask if he can go back to the plane.  She says, “yes, the plane should still be there, no problem.” Kyle sprints up the stairs to the landing where there is an agent.  “I left my bag on the plane, it is ok if I go back to get it?” Kyle asks.  The agent is on the phone and it must be with a hot prospective date because she waives Kyle to the hallway that leads back to the plane looking annoyed at the interruption.

Kyle sprints down the hallway and down the gangway. He pulls up at the entrance to the plane as the pilot and flight attendant are standing there. They immediately pull into a defensive stand and scream for him to stop and back away from the plane slowly.  The Coronavirus clearly has everyone on edge as they are looking at him as the second coming of the 9-11 terrorists.

Kyle backs away slowly saying, “I forget my carry-on bag so I just came back to get it.” 

“How the hell did you get in here?” the pilot asks. “I asked the agent and she told me to go down this hallway to the plane,” Kyle responds.  The pilot gives Kyle a look that says, “either you are lying and you’re going to jail or your not lying and she’s so fired.” Another flight attendant has shown up and asks Kyle what seat he was sitting in and Kyle tells and he goes off to look. 

Thank God English is the official language here as Kyle would be knee deep in shit if he had to try to get out of this situation speaking Dutch or French which many of the Caribbean islands speak. 

“I have to go call this in,” the pilot says.  Kyle’s heartbeat is racing probably close to 200 beats per minute and enough sweat is flowing down his forehead, chest and back that would threaten to drown a small army. The pilot is talking on the phone when the 2nd flight attendant reappears with my bag.  “That’s it!” Kyle exclaims.  

This seems to appease the pilot who must have gotten an ok to release me. Kyle apologizes profusely and thanks them for getting the bag and runs off down the gangway. He turns right and runs down the terminal walkway and finds his relief short lived.  The door from the walkway to the terminal is shut and closed tight as drum.  No handle, no buzzer, no phone, no nothing.  Kyle looks through the window and it is deserted on the other side. He looks down at his phone hoping to call Leanne but no reception, as in 0 bars. 

Kyle starts banging on the door but it’s no use and starts wondering how long it will take before Leanne ventures away from the kids on a Kyle search and rescue mission.  Finally an agent wanders into the deserted area.  Kyle is slamming, banging and kicking the door but it’s obviously sound proofed.  “Please look up, please look up,” Kyle is begging the agent mentally willing her to look up.  And it works!  

She looks up to see a crazed American tourist jumping up and down and kicking and pounding the door.  Her look is 100%, complete WTF??????  I’m guessing she doesn’t see this every day. She cautiously approaches the door mentally debating whether to free this crazy American from the locked walkway.  Kyle switches from pounding the door to hands carefully placed together in a prayer position mouthing the words “please open the door, please, pretty please, pretty, pretty please.”  

Kyle is on a lucky streak as she swipes her badge and the door pops open freeing Kyle from his near crippling ordeal of the past 30 minutes.  Kyle runs down the stairs and back to the rest of the crew still waiting for him.  Leanne takes one look at a sweat drenched Kyle who looks like he got run over by a Mack truck and shakes her head.  “Story for the van ride,” Kyle says. 

By now another plane has arrived and we have to insert ourselves back onto line. 

The kids file through a laid back immigration.  Kyle goes up and the agent asks if he’s been to China, Italy, S Korea or Iran in the past 28 days and he responds no.  The agent then asks how long he’s going to be in Antigua. Kyle looks hesitant and she says, “just approximately, when do you think you’ll leave?” Kyle is sorely tempted to answer, “when a vaccine for the dreaded Coronavirus is available,” but doesn’t want to tempt fate so he answers, “April 30th” which the date of the return ticket to London which we are not planning on using.

Meanwhile, the agent across from Kyle is talking to a guy who looks to be in his early twenties.  She is asking him where if he’s been to any of the hot zone countries such as Italy in the last 28 days and he replies, “sort of.” Hmm?  Seems like you’ve either been in the country or you haven’t.  Kind of like you can’t be half pregnant. She asks him more questions such as “when we’re you in Italy?” and he responds, “about a month ago.” Well, given the question is “in the last 28 days,” seems like about a month ago being 28 days is different from about a month ago being 29 days. 

Mr. Coronavirus starts getting a testy saying, “look, it’s been a month, I don’t have any symptoms, I’m fine, now just let me through.”  Oh boy, the passport control officer doesn’t like that one.  “You look here, this pandemic is serious business and I’m doing my job trying to protect this country and I’ll have none of this from you.”  She gets on her walkie-talkie, “security to checkpoint 12.” Kyle turns to Leanne and says, “there is no way that dude is getting into this country now.  He might as well board a direct flight back to Milan as Italy is probably the only country that would take him at this point.”

We collect our bags and meet our driver Curtis who was recommended by the owner of the Airbnb. Curtis stops at the grocery store and we load up on food and drinks. Curtis will become our new best friend over the coming weeks.  He grew up here on the island and tells us how laid back and nice everyone is. 

Curtis tells us how the government has officially blocked any cruise ships from docking and letting passengers on the island.  They average 4,000 – 5,000 passengers per day so a lot of locals are already feeling the impact of the Coronavirus. Luckily, all the cruise ships come into the capital of St. Johns on the west side of the island and our house is on the opposite east coast.

We pull up to the house where the house manager is there to welcome us.  We unload the luggage and groceries and stand on the outdoor deck as we watch the sun melt into ridgeline across the bay from us. Curtis had told us in the van that we were very lucky because the owner Maureen’s sister was supposed to be staying here for the next two weeks and she cancelled a few hours before we went online and found and booked it. 

Lucky indeed. Or maybe it was just fate.