Norman Knight: Traveling during The Great Pandemic

<p>Our family vacation trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina was everything a family vacation is supposed to be, even in these restricted times.</p><p>Some but not all people we saw were observing good pandemic protection protocols, with masks being the most obvious. Although our plan was to shelter in at our rental house, we did venture out a bit. We noticed almost all businesses that were open were doing arrows on the floors, 50% capacity signs, outside dining, and so on. Many public places such as parks and monuments were open on a limited and restricted basis.</p><p>The entire drive would be about 14 hours. Becky and I left home figuring the fewer stops on the way down, the better. We packed food with us assuming many restaurants would be drive-thru only, which would slow our journey. We paid for gas with charge cards at the pump and, when available, used the stations’ restrooms.</p><p>We realized our travel plan was similar to both of our dads’ strategies when doing family trips as kids. Becky’s father and mine apparently had the same car-traveling rules: Never stop to ask for directions; and no stops unless completely necessary. The dad List of verboten time-wasting stops included side trips to sites not on our itinerary (Quick! Look over there, kids! It’s Devils Tower!); curious tourist traps (World’s largest Ball of Twine; Jack-a-Lope Petting Zoo), junk food and soft drink breaks; and, sometimes painfully, restroom stops.</p><p>So, to prove I was serious about a limited-stop driving trek, I drank only a small amount of coffee before our 6 a.m. departure. This was no small sacrifice. I knew my razor keen senses would be dulled by lack of caffeine, but I also understood that if I drank my usual morning coffee quota, I would be driving under the pressure of constantly looking for the next restroom.</p><p>After some hours on the road, we pulled into a gas station to fill up. Uh, oh. There was a Starbucks across the parking lot with a sign declaring it was open inside. No sitting in a time-wasting line of cars. Now, I am wary of big chain stores from hardware to hamburgers and try to support local businesses when I have the choice. But I confess, I am a loyal Starbucks customer. For the same reason many people tend to patronize chain stores while on the road, I am looking for consistency, and I count on Starbucks coffee to taste the same whether brewed in Greenville, North Carolina, or Greenwood, Indiana.</p><p>We parked, I put on my mask and walked in. The furniture was arranged so I would walk a defined path to the X at the counter where I would place my order and then walk to another X where I would pick it up. Alas, the way to the restrooms was blocked by a cluster of tables and chairs.</p><p>“One Venti coffee, please.”</p><p>Becky and I shared the brew after we took the on-ramp. The rest of the trip I kept my eyes peeled for any ‘Next Rest Area” signs, and when we stopped for gas or otherwise, I made sure the restrooms were in working order. In a real sense, our route was determined by the pressure on my bladder.</p><p>I asked daughter Rachel during a conversation at the rental house if they had noticed a dearth of restroom facilities on their drive, figuring with two adults and four kids in the van how could they not? “It was definitely an issue,” she said. “You had to think ahead.”</p><p>I had not before considered how the Great Pandemic’s ripple effect would include lack of restroom facilities. With all of the money flowing out of Washington these days, I wonder if a little cash might be earmarked for adding more rest stops on interstates. Call it an upgrade to the nation’s crumbling infrastructure. Call it a gift to America’s coffee drinkers.</p>