Part 1: Canceled Flights - Stuck in Honduras for COVID-19
Before reading this post, you should considering joining me in donating to the Roatan Marine Park. Their conservation efforts are crucial to the ecosystem’s stability, and a large portion of their income will be destroyed as a result of tourism downturn in 2020.
March 15th, 2020
Sun peeks through the curtains, and I roll over to protect myself from a new day. After a second, I grab my phone to check what time it is: 6:15AM. I uncharacteristically woke up before my alarm. “That’s a relief,” I tell my self, “boat leaves in a few hours.” I’m currently sitting in a single room, over looking the Caribbean, in a dive resort. The boats leave three times a day for the local reef - we’re here to see sharks, coral, lobster, and maybe an octopus if we’re very lucky.
I squint at this piece of glass and plastic, trying to get both of my eyes to stay open at the same time. It appears my phone has additional news for me, the not so good kind of news:
You may have seen a note under your door from the hotel already, but Roatan is closing entry to the island at midnight tonight. I spoke with the front desk staff after reading it, and they said that the managers will be in the lobby tomorrow AM to assist everyone in calling their airlines to determine what is going to happen with flights. It will take some time to get everything sorted out with the airlines, so regardless of the outcome overall, there won't be an 830 dive tomorrow morning. I'll be at breakfast around 7 to touch base with everyone, but unfortunately I won't have any more information than what I just shared until we can contact the airlines. I know we all wanted a scuba adventure but this definitely wasn't what any of us had in mind!
Blinking a few times, I try to understand what this email means. I shuffle over to the door, and sure enough there’s a folded note on the floor right by the door frame.
It appears the Honduran government has made some very quick decisions to contain COVID-19 since I arrived in Central America 2 days ago (I took “social distancing” pretty seriously and flew 2000 miles away). I stretch my neck and grab some essential gear.
The path down the front office is made of large, sparse, stones set into the ground. The rooms are irregularly placed along a large hill, with trees and immaculate bushes breaking up swathes of beautiful island grass. As I cross the gravel road in front of the main building, I can see several of the other people in my group already milling about. There’s a chatter swelling that will continue for the hours (and days) to come.
“Did you see the email?”
“I’ve already called American, I got a rescheduled flight for the following Tuesday.”
“To be honest, I’m okay being stuck here, find a better place!”
“I heard that the mainland is 7 days but Roatan is 14 days…could we really be here for 14 days?”
The juxtaposition of the island’s beauty and the uncertainty of the situation is stark. It’s hard to know where to land on the spectrum of panic to vacation. Basically nothing feels appropriate.
The signals from the informed individuals, primarily the front office or direct from the resort supervisor, tend to be mixed at best. The only things we know are that there are no more planes coming to Honduras for at least 7 days. We’ve also been told that no one is coming for us on any publicized timeline. No flights in means no flights out. As far as anyone is concerned, we’re marooned on this island with no hope of escape and the apocalypse burning everywhere else. Deep down I know this isn’t true, but the feeling is hard to shake.
“The only things we know are that there are no more planes coming to Honduras for at least 7 days ... No flights in means no flights out.”
The United States Government also appears to have a logistical nightmare on their hands, and they’re not handling it as well as others. Within an hour of me waking, it’s common knowledge in the group that the Canadian Embassy has struck a deal with Honduras and the Canadian airlines. They’re coming for their people, and filling a plane today to evacuate citizens from Roatan.
The feelings in the group are mixed too, anywhere from “Get me on that plane full of Canadians, today” to “fuck it let’s dive until this all blows over.” I’ve never seen such uncertainty wash over a group of people before. I tried to call Delta myself once. I received an automated message saying they were experiencing “unprecedented call volume” and that if I didn’t have a flight in the next 72 hours, I should call back later. They didn’t put me in a queue or give me any options to speak with someone or dial through a menu before hanging up my call and leaving me with a dial tone and a blank expression on my face.
I wake up an hour later. The hammocks here aren’t exactly strung up for sleeping, but I made it work. We were due for an update from the resort staff, so I meander up to the pool area. By this point I have adopted the mentality of “Don’t panic. Always have a towel.” During my last conversation with the dive masters it seemed as though the resort was happy to keep diving, but really just needed to keep the boats docked while they figured everything out. I’m seeking silver linings at this point.
The entire group was chatting by the pool. I sit down and moments later the resort staff conveniently finds all of us in one place. This group of people is very hungry for information and the man approaching us has our full attention.
“My boss has been speaking with the embassy and local government, and they have said that: ‘while no one can come to the island, the airlines will be sending empty flights to pick up those who are currently here.’ You will take your normal flights, on Saturday, to return to the US. The Canadian flights today only left because they were already here from the normal schedule”
This is pretty dumbfounding news. Not a single person considered this to be a possible outcome, and many had already changed their flights to ones later in the following week, after the stated travel ban. There are some minor questions, mostly just confirming that what they had just heard was correct.
It’s very clear that rumors like the Canadian flights spread efficiently in a small anxious group of people. I can’t help but think about what information is right or wrong. Certainly everything is subject to change.
“Alright, can you have the dive boat ready in 30 minutes? I think we’re about ready to go.”
Later that night, while I thought everything was going well, my phone delivers another confusing and concerning piece of information. The email is titled “URGENT Changes To Your Delta Airlines Flight.” To be honest, at this point I don’t have the energy to be concerned. It’s been a long day, of potentially many here in Honduras. I’m grabbing a beer and heading to bed. I’ll deal with my canceled flight in the morning.