Commentary: Fleeing the province during COVID-19

My gerontology book sat on the floor in front of me in my downtown Fredericton apartment. My computer screen had the quiz page up, but I didn’t start the quiz yet, I didn’t have the motivation. I picked up my phone and opened TikTok, my favourite way to procrastinate – that’s when I get a text.

It’s my friend, she’s telling me to check the New Brunswick press conference. It’s around 3 p.m. and I check what’s happening on the livestream. I hear “Fredericton is going to orange phase” along with “mandatory isolation for anyone entering New Brunswick.”

I start freaking out.

The first person I call is my dad. I start crying asking if there’s any way he could get me out of New Brunswick before midnight so I can be home for the holidays. We talk about it a bit, but no, he wouldn’t make it.

At the time, we weren’t aware Nova Scotia didn’t disband the bubble, so we could’ve still entered the province without isolating. But the messages coming from the press conference, the provincial governments and Steve Murphy’s Twitter were extremely misleading.

The next person I called was my friend and co-worker Laura MacDonald. We both live in Cape Breton, so we had similar fears about the situation.

“I called probably four people, screaming, crying, not knowing what was going on,” said Laura. “I checked Steve Murphy’s Twitter which sent me into a bigger spiral.”

Not knowing what to do, I started a group chat with Laura, Shannon Nickerson and Jasmine Gidney – my fellow co-workers at the Aquinian who also live in Nova Scotia.

Jasmine said her and Shannon were leaving within the hour and if we could fit ourselves and our stuff in, she could also drive us out of the province. Laura and I knew we had to get out of the province or it would be unlikely we could return for the holidays.

So, I stand there staring at my room. It’s messy, I had plans to clean it this evening. How do I pack for the holidays, where I’ll likely be gone for a month, in less than an hour? First, I remember I have laundry in the machines downstairs, so I run down ready to remove my dry clothes.

I forgot. Our dryer doesn’t work and my clothes are still soaked. So, I take out the sopping clothing and bring it upstairs. I hang it up like clothing-themed Christmas decorations around the apartment and throw whatever I need into my suitcase, knowing it was never going to dry in there.

I packed the most random clothing. I even had to leave some Christmas gifts behind in order to fit everything into a single suitcase.

Then, it dawns on me. I’m supposed to go with my friend Jessica Johnson to Picaroons to film footage for my Through the Lens story. I call Jessica and explain what happened. She is completely understanding but I still don’t have a story for Through the Lens and its due Sunday.

I start filming my journey, thinking maybe it would make for some interesting content.

Within the hour, I’m dragging my suitcase down the steep steps of my apartment complex and pulling my suitcase onto my lap upon getting into Jasmine’s car. The trunk is full, so Laura and I have our bags stacked on our laps. Laura was smarter than me and only packed a duffle bag.

“I basically packed my whole life into this duffle bag right here for the next few months,” she said.

After a McDonalds pitstop, playing video games shouting, “Laura, you killed me,” freaking out while driving on the dark highway next to a group of eighteen-wheelers and complaining that our legs were going numb – we made it to a hotel in Truro.

“I absolutely hate driving in the dark,” said Jasmine. “I think every shadow is a person walking across the highway.”

We got no work done at the hotel. Laura fell off the bed at least twice and we tried to order food. Unfortunately, we ordered Boston Pizza and called the Fredericton location.

We were confused, to say the least, when the delivery driver called and said the hotel had no guests in room 122.

A few days later though, a COVID-19 exposure alert for that night from Boston Pizza in Truro was announced, so maybe our mistake was for the best.

We got picked up in the morning, Laura and I went with my dad and Shannon and Jasmine drove the opposite direction to Digby.

The drive was fine, but I think we all breathed a sigh of relief after crossing the causeway into Cape Breton.

Now that I’m home and still have two weeks of school left, I long for my distraction-free environment in my apartment. Unlucky for me, I have a cat here who craves constant attention. Or maybe it’s lucky. We’ll see when my grades come out, I guess.