There were several of us sitting in the consultation area of a local Uxbridge pharmacy last week – all of us waiting, most of us doing this for the first time, and everybody looking a bit anxious. The woman next to me – well, actually two metres away – was busy texting somebody. Of all those in the waiting area, she seemed the most at ease. I thought I’d seek some assurance.
“Done this before?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said through her mask. “My husband and I travel a lot. So, we’re getting used to it.”
“What’s it like at Pearson once you’ve got all the paperwork?”
“Believe what they tell you,” she said. “Get there three hours early.”
For some months now, I’ve awaited the monthly pronouncements from Washington about when I might be allowed to travel by land across the international border into the U.S. A veteran friend, whom I’ve wanted to visit, is nearing his 100th birthday. Tony Mellaci served with my father (who died in 2004) in the U.S. Army Medical Corps during the Second World War.
Researching my last book, I’d met Mellaci at his home in New Jersey, and he’d given me priceless insights about the war and his close comradeship with my dad. So, throughout the pandemic, I’ve wanted to pay Mellaci a visit by driving to New Jersey. But when U.S. Homeland Security announced another month’s extension of the ban on vaccinated Canadians crossing the border to Oct. 21, I knew I couldn’t wait.
Flying to the States has been allowed for months. But I was about to learn how complicated it is.
I figured, in order to fly to any U.S. destination, that I needed verification of my double vaccination, although I had no idea at what point, how often, or in what form during my travels that I’d need to present that certification. But on top of that, when crossing into the U.S. I discovered I needed a COVID-19 Rapid Antigen Test – a swab up the nose – with a negative result.
Several checks with Bernadette, my wonderful travel agent in town, indicated the rapid test had to be one approved by that airline. That put me at the local pharmacy with those other anxious travellers getting the test and the proof.
“Don’t forget to fill out the passenger attestation,” Bernadette added.
The Passenger Disclosure and Attestation Requirement, she said, was proof I’d taken a pre-departure COVID-19 viral test three days before flying. In effect it was proof of the proof of the proof I was COVID-free. So, armed with my double-vaccination data, my pharmacy rapid-test paperwork and my attestation, I awoke early last Thursday to catch my 8:30 a.m. flight south.
I arrived at the airport by 5 a.m. to be sure. Not surprisingly, the three-hour lead time was bang on. After clearing airport security, boarding-pass checks, anti-virus prevention measures and U.S. Customs and Immigration, I arrived at my flight gate with 15 minutes to spare. By the way, I was only asked to show my rapid swab test to one person – a ticket agent at the very beginning of the airport security system.
Landing in the U.S., I rented a car and was on my way to visit my dad’s wartime buddy, just in time to join Tony and his wife Sharon Mellaci celebrate their 72nd wedding anniversary. Then, off I went to visit other family and friends. But all the while, looming in the back of my mind, was my return trip. I wasn’t worried about getting the car rental back safely or my pre-flight check-in. No, what kept me awake at night from the moment I arrived was getting my return-trip COVID test. Travelling to Canada requires a different one – the Molecular PCR Test.
There are lots of places offering swab COVID tests in the U.S. But the key is taking the test within 72 hours of the return flight and receiving the negative results quickly. A pharmacy chain said they couldn’t guarantee it for two to three days, but a drive-through clinic guaranteed same-day results … at a cost of $200 U.S. So, there I was, a couple of days into my trip, arranging all my itinerary around a nose swab that would yield a negative result, within the prescribed pre-departure period, and guaranteeing same-day results.
As I write this Barris Beat, on Tuesday, I’ve just now taken my PCR Test. I’ve paid through the nose (as it were) to get it. And I await its results, praying they’ll arrive on my phone within the timelines that the airline and government protocols demand, and all before I arrive at the airport Thursday to fly home.
Such is life in a world seemingly now governed by the swab.