Too late for the border guards
There was no reason to stay any longer. We had decided to avoid darkness and blowing snow; now we were ready to head back to base. The drive out of the city was uneventful, and after stopping for fuel, we headed north. Decided not to see if the ferry was still in service (it wasn’t), and our papers granting safe passage across provincial borders expected up to come back the way we had gone. I mean, we had a medical exemption, which conveyed great pomp and circumstance. Or not.
At the welcoming tent, we received the “stick up the nose”, explained our particulars and learned that we had not shown great haste, so there was a penalty. Four days in “isolation” which is not the same as quarantine. We had made a similar trip less than three months earlier, but these are strange and uncertain times. The young man showed us his regulations, and his supervisor and three others chimed in to assure us that any “Karen style” response would be met with wooden faces and no possible argument.
We had promised to pick up groceries for a young family in genuine quarantine. Coming four days later than expected might not go so well with the delicate tummies of tinies. So be it. We contacted the local general store and arranged for three jugs of milk to be set aside, out in the parking lot beside the community mailboxes, and then we cursed our own lack of speed and went home to lick our wounds and feed the dog.
We also have two personal test kits, meaning that I will have had my nose probed four times in five days. Diligence, when it finally kicks in with public servants, is a beast to behold. In summation, we are home, we are healthy and we are happy to do our part for public health, even if the rules change (always) in a reactive rather than proactive fashion.
As always, the year ends with Bye-Bye and Infoman.
