I suddenly caught my breath as after a prolonged apnea.
I have no idea where I am or when I am. Immersed in absolute darkness, total silence, I ask myself "am I dead?" ". But the cozy cocoon of the duvet, and especially the hunger that shears my stomach, make me lean towards life. It took a few seconds to come to my senses. The watch that never leaves my wrist tells me it's 2:30 in the morning. She updates herself on her own. With a leap I find myself glued to the icy glass of the hotel room which will serve as my cell for the next ten days.
Music first, I have to break this silence. A Chopin Nocturne will be fine. Opus 15 is what I was listening to when I got off the plane nine hours ago. After a first summary check of our numerous papers, we gathered in a huge single file. Silently. Worried looks met tired reddened eyes. Certainly unnecessary smiles were exchanged behind the masks. We'll never know. The movement picked up, but when I stood in front of them, I understood.
Unable to turn back, the Plane wouldn't want me or anyone else. Running away would be pointless. The only solution is to face it and go through each ordeal one after the other. For those who have seen "Squid Game", no need to describe further. They will understand right away. For the others, I faced guards, in white coveralls, masked, boiled, dehumanized, even the voice of which was broadcast via a loudspeaker attached to their sides. They are only missing a triangle or a circle on the helmet. But a certainty. I am in the Games.
Each dam is very specialized. Classic passport verification, then vaccination, then PCR test. The best time is still installing the tracking application that defies any GDPR or basic freedom notions. I would like to see the reaction of our great yellow knights, fervent defenders of freedoms, in front of this humanoid robot, true holder of the authority, which handles YOUR phone! They install, among other things, an application that will be used, during quarantine, to send twice a day, your physical parameters and your health report. At that moment, everything changed. On my right flank, an American fifty-something has just been refused entry to the country because the date of birth on one of the papers did not match the passport. He was placed in solitary confinement until the next flight home. The candidates fall, one after the other, then are sorted, arranged, until my first satisfaction of the day! After scanning my indexes, the doors finally open, and I see my luggage spinning almost by itself on the winner's mat. Yet another check, I no longer count, letting go, I let myself be carried by the outgoing flow. At this point we are sorted, again, using esoteric codes that we do not master. We have been evolving through the trials for more than three hours and I feel that we are close to the exit. I feel the cool air caress my face. We are escorted by the police in a bus, still not knowing where our ten days of quarantine will take place. I can not believe what I'm hearing!
"You'r next destination is Grand Hyatt Hotel"! I am then filled with gratitude and relieved at the idea of not being parked in an army barracks as some have experienced.
"Come on, just a little bit more effort and I'll be comfortable in my room." I was salivating at the idea of ordering room-service a Caesar salad, spring rolls or any of the dishes available at any time of the day or night. After half an hour on the road, we see the Grail, imposing. But we avoid the main entrance, certainly reserved for "normal" customers. Doubt sets in when we have to descend, one by one, in freezing cold to two humanoids with rods and test tubes. Deliverance is near. A final double nose-throat cleaning. The two. We are finally allowed to enter an abandoned wing of this beautiful hotel where tables are set up like at school. Other Humanoids with amplified voices explain to us, not without humor, that we are the lucky ones. We just have to understand the many constraints of these ten days of confinement, to pay the bill of around a thousand euros and grab a plastic bag including the evening dinner.
It was at this moment that, exhausted, I let myself slip into a coma. Tomorrow it will be daylight, another day, many days to think, feel, write and of course work. T
Comments