READING TIME: 8 MINUTES
I noticed the story popping up in the news. Something about a virus. "I'll order masks for everyone to wear in the the airports". That was me being cautious. So, I ordered thirteen masks. "Now we're covered."
But it ramped up fast.
One day I’m reading about some virus in a city I've never heard of, and the next, the promoter is saying it's going to become a very big deal. "It's like SARS." They had seen seen it before. I looked up Wuhan on Google Maps. "How big is this city I've never heard of?" Eleven million people.
A week or so before we left, China was cancelled. People were asking for refunds. We thought it was dumb. But whatever. "800 kilometers from Shanghai, 1100 from Chengdu?" The government shut it down. Seemed like an overreaction.
Flew to New Zealand on 29 January. People were wearing masks at LAX while walking around the terminal. "Is this necessary?" I wondered. "I'll wear mine on the plane."
But it ramped up fast.
One day I’m reading about some virus in a city I've never heard of, and the next, the promoter is saying it's going to become a very big deal. "It's like SARS." They had seen seen it before. I looked up Wuhan on Google Maps. "How big is this city I've never heard of?" Eleven million people.
A week or so before we left, China was cancelled. People were asking for refunds. We thought it was dumb. But whatever. "800 kilometers from Shanghai, 1100 from Chengdu?" The government shut it down. Seemed like an overreaction.
Flew to New Zealand on 29 January. People were wearing masks at LAX while walking around the terminal. "Is this necessary?" I wondered. "I'll wear mine on the plane."
Auckland. It was the middle of summer, 33 degrees (91 Fahrenheit). It was hot and sunny. The city seemed normal. People out, restaurants open. The show, sold out. The venue, sweltering, like a standing-room sauna. The green room was suffocating. We had audio issues and started forty-five minutes late, but the crowd stayed and jumped and sang. The nighttime air hit like a cold blast after the show.
Australia. Now it was news, now it was out there. If you had been to China, they were looking for you. Trying to catch people who had been to China, but didn't want to admit it. Because why? it would have been inconvenient — to what? quarantine? to answer questions? I don't know. The person checking passports in Brisbane saw our Chinese visas and questioned us. She had orders. But they were unused we told her. They were unused, and we hadn't been. She let us go. The shows were slammed, people on top of each other dancing, singing. Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane. I never thought about the virus once at any of these shows.
We flew to Tokyo. EVERYONE wore masks. More than usual. It felt overblown. Tokyo, endless, endless. Magical. Everyone waits for the walk signal. Even if there are no cars, people are in a hurry, and the sidewalks are full, everyone waits. Everyone wore masks, but not at the show. It was packed, people jumping and singing. After, quietly back out onto the streets.
We were in Tokyo seven days and flew to London. All open all fine and free at LHR. Weird to hear English again, everyone talking about the virus. Making jokes, jovial but like, "You were in Japan? Don't touch me, stand back. Haha." Now we were on a bus blowing through cities. It was raining and cold everyday. Grey, overcast. The sun peeked out in Manchester and we all went to the window. We were in six UK cities from top to bottom. Glasgow to Bristol. No one wore masks. Restaurants and bars full. The shows all sold out. We did meet and greets, went to restaurants, mixed cocktails, shared cigarettes, thirteen people living on top of each other.
The bus had to exit UK immigration on the other side of the tunnel. It was 3am. We stumbled in sleepily. The hall was empty, cavernous. There were giant TV's overhead blabbing news, some confident politician. It echoed. It was jarring.
Netherlands. Utrecht. Still cold and grey, still raining. Didn't go outside once. The bus pulled in underground. A performance art center with seven or eight venues. Catering, laundry, ping pong, etc.
Luxembourg. EVERYONE talking about the virus. We were in a restaurant and this place was sophisticated, urbane, but low-key, salt of the earth. They were selling €25 hamburgers and brewing lagers on-premises. Low lit, orange and yellow light. The sky was deep violet through the windows. It was Friday night. Luxembourg, where the official languages are French, German, and Luxembourgish but everyone defaults to English if necessary. The city felt empty, but inside here it was humming with people. We sat at the bar. The guy next to me read Sapiens in German. Two women on our other side were in and out of French and English. We left. Pushed through the crowd. Now there was a line to get in.
I walked around by myself and listened to a podcast. A conversation among scientists, economists, and traders. They talked about how bad the virus was about to get, how people didn't get it. They were taking it seriously. The traders were trading, taking action. When copper is down and gold is up you know something is wrong.
I counted the days since we left Tokyo and once we hit fourteen and no symptoms, it passed in my mind. Just ride this trip out til Moscow.
But now it was in Milan. And we were supposed to be there in five days. They reassured us it was fine, "it’s outside the city, 60 km outside the city. They have it contained" they told us. I saw something else in the headlines.
Düsseldorf, Brno, Munich. Shows, shows, shows. People drinking, waving, singing.
Off day in Düsseldorf, we were at an altbier brewery, the place, empty. Forty or fifty tables, two were taken, us, and another family across the room. The waiters outnumbered the customers. He gave us shots on the house. "Vaccine" he laughed. We asked if it was empty because of the virus. He muttered something in broken English. It was Sunday night. Everything closes on Sundays in Germany because of "blue laws", so we couldn't tell normalcy from the virus.
Milan, now CANCELLED. There was no way we were going there anyway after the news reports. The promoter had to wait for the government to close down the show. It was an insurance thing. Promoters can't willingly cancel. The government has to. Then it's Force majeure. Act of God. Then the contract is void.
Great, two days off in Budapest, a sleeping giant of a city. Breathtaking. A former world capital. Our hotel sat over the Danube, a Hilton built into the side of a castle. The place was empty. They comp'ed us rooms with the best views overlooking the Parliament Building. Stunning.
Breakfast at the hotel was a typical European spread. English bacon, fried eggs, baked beans, roasted tomatoes, hash browns, HP sauce, freshly-baked breads, croissants, whole-grain loaves, baguettes, pastries, butter, jams, cheeses, salad, fruit, smoked fish, more cheese, yogurt, granola, omelette station with fixings; coffee, tea, juices, champagne. (I can only imagine how disappointed Europeans are when they visit US hotels.) Also a sign "Traditional Chinese Breakfast." They had dumplings, noodles, and soup, but there were NO Chinese tourists in the dining room at all. Zero.
The city buzzed with activity, but there was PLENTY of room to breath. Like walking around inside a dream. Tourists roamed with cameras, but there was NO competition for space. Stores selling trinkets, coffee shops, ruin bars, cafes, markets, flower boutiques all open. We ate in the best restaurants, just walked right up with no reservations.
In Bratislava, the promoter told us if anyone felt flu-like and went to the doctor they’d place you in a mandatory fourteen day quarantine. That night, ours was the last event in town. All public events cancelled at midnight.
Next day Poland. A decree from the Prime Minister that morning that all "mass gatherings" cancelled starting TODAY. "Is that us?" No one knows. "Are we gonna get arrested or something?" "We aren't sure." Purgatory, waiting, people were confused. We sat around all day, no show.
It caught us, it lapped us. They were stopping vehicles at borders now, in the EU, in the open-border Schengen area.
Lithuania. Woke up at 630am to thirty text messages. Travel ban starting tomorrow from Europe to the US. It was chaos. Now we were done. It passed us. The flights home were already booked. We were rattled. Because what next? We get quarantined in Ukraine or Russia? We were subjected to the hysteria. People were sick on the tour, coughing, sneezing. "Will we even be able to get home?" Boom, bye! Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Ukraine, Belarus, Russia cancelled, cancelled, cancelled. No more riding it out. Word was that everything in Europe would be cancelled in the next day or two.
Vilnius -> Paris -> NY. The airports were a ghost town except the DeGaulle to JFK flight home, which was packed to the BRIM with Americans.
Landed at JFK and all free and open, easy. No masks, no gloves, no soap in the bathroom. No warning signs, no testing, no quarantines, no officials.
We traveled around four continents and watched Coronavirus unfold from the background to front and center. Like a tidal wave that started way out on the horizon. But it moved slowly and smoothly closer, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it's descent was towering and inevitable.
Two, maybe three lessons I learned or was reminded of.
One.
People don’t understand numbers, exponential growth. Not until we *feel* it do we understand.
Two.
There's a tipping point. Ignore danger until just like *that* everyone pays attention. No one worries until everyone does. Eek out just one more day, one more week. Stay on course until knocked off, inertia.
Three, and most importantly.
No one knows what is going to happen in the world. Not the experts. Not the bloggers. No one. Organizations are just made of individuals trying to thread the needle, walk the line, and cover their asses. No one is "right". Reality is somewhere in the middle.
Australia. Now it was news, now it was out there. If you had been to China, they were looking for you. Trying to catch people who had been to China, but didn't want to admit it. Because why? it would have been inconvenient — to what? quarantine? to answer questions? I don't know. The person checking passports in Brisbane saw our Chinese visas and questioned us. She had orders. But they were unused we told her. They were unused, and we hadn't been. She let us go. The shows were slammed, people on top of each other dancing, singing. Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane. I never thought about the virus once at any of these shows.
We flew to Tokyo. EVERYONE wore masks. More than usual. It felt overblown. Tokyo, endless, endless. Magical. Everyone waits for the walk signal. Even if there are no cars, people are in a hurry, and the sidewalks are full, everyone waits. Everyone wore masks, but not at the show. It was packed, people jumping and singing. After, quietly back out onto the streets.
We were in Tokyo seven days and flew to London. All open all fine and free at LHR. Weird to hear English again, everyone talking about the virus. Making jokes, jovial but like, "You were in Japan? Don't touch me, stand back. Haha." Now we were on a bus blowing through cities. It was raining and cold everyday. Grey, overcast. The sun peeked out in Manchester and we all went to the window. We were in six UK cities from top to bottom. Glasgow to Bristol. No one wore masks. Restaurants and bars full. The shows all sold out. We did meet and greets, went to restaurants, mixed cocktails, shared cigarettes, thirteen people living on top of each other.
The bus had to exit UK immigration on the other side of the tunnel. It was 3am. We stumbled in sleepily. The hall was empty, cavernous. There were giant TV's overhead blabbing news, some confident politician. It echoed. It was jarring.
Netherlands. Utrecht. Still cold and grey, still raining. Didn't go outside once. The bus pulled in underground. A performance art center with seven or eight venues. Catering, laundry, ping pong, etc.
Luxembourg. EVERYONE talking about the virus. We were in a restaurant and this place was sophisticated, urbane, but low-key, salt of the earth. They were selling €25 hamburgers and brewing lagers on-premises. Low lit, orange and yellow light. The sky was deep violet through the windows. It was Friday night. Luxembourg, where the official languages are French, German, and Luxembourgish but everyone defaults to English if necessary. The city felt empty, but inside here it was humming with people. We sat at the bar. The guy next to me read Sapiens in German. Two women on our other side were in and out of French and English. We left. Pushed through the crowd. Now there was a line to get in.
I walked around by myself and listened to a podcast. A conversation among scientists, economists, and traders. They talked about how bad the virus was about to get, how people didn't get it. They were taking it seriously. The traders were trading, taking action. When copper is down and gold is up you know something is wrong.
I counted the days since we left Tokyo and once we hit fourteen and no symptoms, it passed in my mind. Just ride this trip out til Moscow.
But now it was in Milan. And we were supposed to be there in five days. They reassured us it was fine, "it’s outside the city, 60 km outside the city. They have it contained" they told us. I saw something else in the headlines.
Düsseldorf, Brno, Munich. Shows, shows, shows. People drinking, waving, singing.
Off day in Düsseldorf, we were at an altbier brewery, the place, empty. Forty or fifty tables, two were taken, us, and another family across the room. The waiters outnumbered the customers. He gave us shots on the house. "Vaccine" he laughed. We asked if it was empty because of the virus. He muttered something in broken English. It was Sunday night. Everything closes on Sundays in Germany because of "blue laws", so we couldn't tell normalcy from the virus.
Milan, now CANCELLED. There was no way we were going there anyway after the news reports. The promoter had to wait for the government to close down the show. It was an insurance thing. Promoters can't willingly cancel. The government has to. Then it's Force majeure. Act of God. Then the contract is void.
Great, two days off in Budapest, a sleeping giant of a city. Breathtaking. A former world capital. Our hotel sat over the Danube, a Hilton built into the side of a castle. The place was empty. They comp'ed us rooms with the best views overlooking the Parliament Building. Stunning.
Breakfast at the hotel was a typical European spread. English bacon, fried eggs, baked beans, roasted tomatoes, hash browns, HP sauce, freshly-baked breads, croissants, whole-grain loaves, baguettes, pastries, butter, jams, cheeses, salad, fruit, smoked fish, more cheese, yogurt, granola, omelette station with fixings; coffee, tea, juices, champagne. (I can only imagine how disappointed Europeans are when they visit US hotels.) Also a sign "Traditional Chinese Breakfast." They had dumplings, noodles, and soup, but there were NO Chinese tourists in the dining room at all. Zero.
The city buzzed with activity, but there was PLENTY of room to breath. Like walking around inside a dream. Tourists roamed with cameras, but there was NO competition for space. Stores selling trinkets, coffee shops, ruin bars, cafes, markets, flower boutiques all open. We ate in the best restaurants, just walked right up with no reservations.
In Bratislava, the promoter told us if anyone felt flu-like and went to the doctor they’d place you in a mandatory fourteen day quarantine. That night, ours was the last event in town. All public events cancelled at midnight.
Next day Poland. A decree from the Prime Minister that morning that all "mass gatherings" cancelled starting TODAY. "Is that us?" No one knows. "Are we gonna get arrested or something?" "We aren't sure." Purgatory, waiting, people were confused. We sat around all day, no show.
It caught us, it lapped us. They were stopping vehicles at borders now, in the EU, in the open-border Schengen area.
Lithuania. Woke up at 630am to thirty text messages. Travel ban starting tomorrow from Europe to the US. It was chaos. Now we were done. It passed us. The flights home were already booked. We were rattled. Because what next? We get quarantined in Ukraine or Russia? We were subjected to the hysteria. People were sick on the tour, coughing, sneezing. "Will we even be able to get home?" Boom, bye! Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Ukraine, Belarus, Russia cancelled, cancelled, cancelled. No more riding it out. Word was that everything in Europe would be cancelled in the next day or two.
Vilnius -> Paris -> NY. The airports were a ghost town except the DeGaulle to JFK flight home, which was packed to the BRIM with Americans.
Landed at JFK and all free and open, easy. No masks, no gloves, no soap in the bathroom. No warning signs, no testing, no quarantines, no officials.
**********
We traveled around four continents and watched Coronavirus unfold from the background to front and center. Like a tidal wave that started way out on the horizon. But it moved slowly and smoothly closer, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it's descent was towering and inevitable.
Two, maybe three lessons I learned or was reminded of.
One.
People don’t understand numbers, exponential growth. Not until we *feel* it do we understand.
Two.
There's a tipping point. Ignore danger until just like *that* everyone pays attention. No one worries until everyone does. Eek out just one more day, one more week. Stay on course until knocked off, inertia.
Three, and most importantly.
No one knows what is going to happen in the world. Not the experts. Not the bloggers. No one. Organizations are just made of individuals trying to thread the needle, walk the line, and cover their asses. No one is "right". Reality is somewhere in the middle.