As the airplane touched down in Manila, my cough was tickling harder but I tried to swallow it down – especially as I was filling out the Health Form.
But I didn’t hide my symptoms. I checked yes that I had a cough. I checked yes that I had a runny nose. And I put all the countries I had visited in the last 7 days: India, China, and Hong Kong.
Unlike China, there was no hazmat team that boarded first and pointed their plastic temperature taking guns. Instead, we were ushered off the plane quite quickly. Then just outside the gate as we turned left towards immigration was a uninterested, heavy man leaning on an iron railing asking you for your health forms. He kept a messy batch under his unused arm and his action arm gathered together the others.
He asked us no questions and he seemed to be put off by being assigned as the single health official. He didn’t even look people in the eyes as we passed – handing him our forms.
At the next level of health inspection – walking in front of the thermal temperature taking television screens – was even easier. The booth was not manned.
I found it hard to keep in my coughing as I stood in the immigration line. I was now self-conscious of my condition – and held it back as much as possible. But the people in lines were more excited about being in the Philippines and ignored me. Most of them seemed like American college students coming over for holiday.
I was afraid the immigration inspector might deny my entry. Instead when I got to her desk she made a comment that she thought my tie made me look handsome. I smiled back, felt a tickle, and let out a little cough.
The lady smiled back and stamped my passport.
But I didn’t hide my symptoms. I checked yes that I had a cough. I checked yes that I had a runny nose. And I put all the countries I had visited in the last 7 days: India, China, and Hong Kong.
Unlike China, there was no hazmat team that boarded first and pointed their plastic temperature taking guns. Instead, we were ushered off the plane quite quickly. Then just outside the gate as we turned left towards immigration was a uninterested, heavy man leaning on an iron railing asking you for your health forms. He kept a messy batch under his unused arm and his action arm gathered together the others.
He asked us no questions and he seemed to be put off by being assigned as the single health official. He didn’t even look people in the eyes as we passed – handing him our forms.
At the next level of health inspection – walking in front of the thermal temperature taking television screens – was even easier. The booth was not manned.
I found it hard to keep in my coughing as I stood in the immigration line. I was now self-conscious of my condition – and held it back as much as possible. But the people in lines were more excited about being in the Philippines and ignored me. Most of them seemed like American college students coming over for holiday.
I was afraid the immigration inspector might deny my entry. Instead when I got to her desk she made a comment that she thought my tie made me look handsome. I smiled back, felt a tickle, and let out a little cough.
The lady smiled back and stamped my passport.
Continue reading "Positive (Manila, Philippines)"
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