Illustrations by Vince Giovannucci
A Petri Dish On Wings
By
Leo de Natale
After cruising eight days down the Danube River, Josef “Joe” and Anna Adamek were ready to go home to Boston. Despite the unseasonably cool and rainy weather, the late September vacation did not disappoint. From a reverential Benedictine Abbey near Linz to the cultural zenith known as Vienna, Austria the Adameks oohed and ahhed their way to Bratislava, Slovakia and the final destination, Budapest, Hungary. The couple were humbled and awed by the region’s political and religious history. One cathedral was more spectacular than the next. The statuary was gigantic and majestic and paid homage to empires gone but not forgotten. The Adameks loved immersing themselves in such culture but also became increasingly aware this part of Europe was a tourist trap. Each city was filled with bars, open air restaurants, souvenir shops, ubiquitous cigarette smoking and pickpockets. These go with the territory.
For Joe, the vacation was a sentimental journey back to his roots. His grandparents were Slovak and returning to the “Old Country” was incredibly nostalgic. Growing up, Joe’s immigrant grandmother lived with the family and she and his mother exclusively spoke Slovak. Eastern Europeans were hardy stock and they were infused with a work ethic shown by most immigrants during the first half of the 20th Century.
Joe had an elementary knowledge of the mother tongue and remembered many Slovak words. He was delighted to arrive in Bratislava and hear conversations that reminded him of yesteryear. The cruise line provided guided tours of each city and Joe reveled with his conversations with the Slovak tour guide. In Bratislava, he’d close his eyes and listen to familiar conversations. He’d enjoy the aromatic smells of cooking he’d known growing up—Kasha, roast pork, sauerkraut. He’d tasted plum dumplings and apple strudel that were delicious – but not as good as Grandma’s. Joe shared these remembrances with Anna although she was Irish American and couldn’t completely appreciate Josef’s nostalgia.
The Adamek’s had flown non-stop to Munich. The flight wasn’t bad. Seven hours on Lufthansa’s huge jumbo AirBus A380 (accommodation up to 853 passengers) that was only half full. Being cautious they decided to wear masks. Joe and Anna would later recall how Munich’s airport turned them into lab rats. The route between the gate and baggage pickup was a series of moves lasting more than fifteen minutes. They were required to climb up and down three different long staircases and another three escalators. Welcome to Germany. They chose an overnight stay at the Munich Airport Hilton. They recalled the debilitating jet lag tourists experience with time changes affecting circadian rhythms that make people look and feel like a lobotomized Jack Nicholson in the Cuckoo’s Nest film.
They didn’t realize their one night stay was during Oktoberfest. They winced at their final hotel bill totaling $1,100. Ouch! Not much bang for the buck, especially when they left less 24 hours after their arrival. Chalk that up to a devalued dollar compared to the Euro. Despite the hotel gouging, the Adameks were ready for vacation. The following day they were shuttled with other river cruise tourists to their first destination.
The river cruise started in the Bavarian city Passau, a well preserved medieval city whose streets were primarily paved with cobblestones.
Sensible walking shoes were de rigueur. Passau is infamously the place where four-year-old Adolf Hitler almost drowned. Alas, he was rescued and the world would eventually suffer. Most Passau residents always say ,
“If only……..”
Drinking was a staple in Passau and most Bavarian towns where strong coffee, local beer, reisling wine and schnapps were in ample supply. The ship moved between cities in the evening but the twenty mile voyage between Linz and Vienna was a day cruise. The vessel glided through the greenish river (The Danube is no longer blue). The ship’s British program director narrated the journey and pointed out various famous castles, monasteries, and vineyards.
Unfortunately, the day was rainy. Low lying clouds obscured many of the famous castles. Joe’s favorite site, however, was the gigantic 13-foot concrete nose located along the Wachau riverbank. The Austrians have an active and viable wine industry and the nose represented the aromas associated with blossoming grapevines and an odd sense of humor. Of course the large human noses are well represented in Austria. The famous Viennese organ meister and composer Anton Bruckner’s schnozz might have been an inspiration for the concrete nose .
On board, many jokes –“Does the nose ever sneeze cement?”-were made about the Giant Proboscis and most of the laughing tourists enjoyed the view and the boat’s pleasant, almost lulling rhythm especially while consuming regional white wine or local beers. After all, it was Oktoberfest.
Vienna was breathtaking with its majestic buildings that harkened tourists to be overwhelmed by the long-vanished wealth and power of the Habsburg Empire. St. Stephen’s Cathedral was immense but the bustling crowds filing in and out made it apparent the church is more of a sightseeing spot than a House of God. Joe and Anna enjoyed sauntering through the city’s cosmopolitan streets. And it was a must to sip cappuccino in one of the many Viennese coffee houses.
Then it was onto Bratislava, capitol of Slovakia. This city was a thrill for Joe because his grandparents were born there and, as a child, his grandmother lived with his family. And now he’d returned to his roots.
He couldn’t speak fluent Slovak but he remembered enough vocabulary to speak awkwardly with the natives. The city was charming because it was relatively small compared to Vienna. It was easy to meander through Bratislava’s quaint streets. Josef thoroughly enjoyed the eight hours spent with Anna in this livable town.
The tour ended in Budapest, an amazingly schizophrenic city (Buda on one bank, Pest on the other) that boastfully spotlighted itself at night with citywide lights that included the three famous bridges – all lit like a gigantic birthday cake. It was a helluva farewell sight.
By Day Eight, the Adameks were sated and ready to leave this fantasy world for the grueling, multi- airport return. They actually should have been acclimated to this by their experiences with the direct inbound flight to Munich.
The return, however, was different. From Budapest, they scheduled a connecting flight to Frankfort (two hours) and the final destination to Boston (seven+ hours). Little did the Adameks know that an obnoxious, obese American –Joe would later refer to him as “TM” Typhoid Mary – would turn this voyage into a nightmare and a Lufthansa sanitarium.
This older man was a hulking six-footer. He had a shock of snow-white hair that was thick and full; his eyes deep-set blue. His needle nose lay above a malevolent smirk (Joe could visualize him as a Stormtrooper goose stepping down the boulevards of Frankfort). The average person would look at this man’s face with his bull neck and melon-sized head and think “This is not a nice guy”. The man’s head was so huge his drug store reading glasses were ill-fitting and two small. The side piece bows struggled to meet his ears.
From before the plane’s doors were locked and until arrival in Boston seven hours later, this inconsiderate traveler would wheeze hack, cough, sneeze his way across the Atlantic Ocean and without wearing a mask. The Adameks – and all the surrounding passengers– had been poured into a 500 ton Petri Dish and became living, breathing Agar Agar. At one point, he was sneezing into the tiny complimentary airline pillow. Joe observed this and became nauseous.
Things became hostile. Midway through the flight a heavily tattooed biker four rows behind yelled “Hey asshole!! Put a fucking paper bag over your head! You’re killing us back here!” Nobody moved and there was concern a fist fight would ensue. Violent behavior has become common on domestic and interntional flights. Fortunately, T.M. never responded.
The Adameks thought Covid masks should have been mandatory with this human plague aboard. After several hours of this public health onslaught, a frustrated Joe approached an uptight, Teutonic flight attendant and complained about the public health hazard sitting in seat 15C.
“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s nothing we can do,” she curtly replied, her blonde hair in a French Twist. “This happens all the time.”
The attendant was not warm and fuzzy. She unfortunately perpetuated the stereotype of frigid Germans.
“Well, gee, this passenger is really creating a stir in our area,” Joe said. “People are getting frustrated. Can’t you force him to wear a mask?”
“I’m sorry Herr Adamek but our hands are tied,” she responded in a heavy German accent. “You can always contact the airlines when you arrive home.”
Thanks a lot, Joe said to himself. Well, at least Anna and I have masks. Most of their fellow travelers were not masked and as the flight ensued he became aware of the cacophony of coughing that emanated from his section of the airplane. Typhoid Mary had company. The Adameks became increasingly upset with this giant tuberculosis ward flying at a 35,000 feet altitude.
After the grueling seven hours, the airplane finally, blessedly landed. T.M. was still hacking as the boarding gate opened. Everyone in his section glared at him and predictably he was non-plussed. He had a me, myself and my cough attitude towards fellow travelers. An eight foot buffer zone surrounded him as the crowd awaiting luggage delivery at the airport carousel.
Joe and Anna swiftly hauled their baggage to the nearest exit and ordered an Uber car. Thirty five minutes later, they were mercifully in front of their beloved home. It had been an unusual odyssey. They stripped off their skeevy clothes and threw them into the washing machine, showered and fell fast asleep.
The following morning they were still exhausted but over breakfast coffee savored the unusual vacation with its evanescent memories. The history of those places, the beauty of the cities and the people they met. The culture was palpable. They knew within several weeks the trip would become just a memory. Both had taken hundreds of photos and videos for them to savor. Thank God for iPhones.
The entire experience, however, wasn’t over. It was the good, the bad and the ugly. By the next evening, Joe was coughing and wheezing. He had night sweats and a fluctuating temperature. He felt crappy. Two days later his symptoms hadn’t lessened.
He went to a nearby doc-in-a- box urgent care that was useless. The “doc’s” scrubs were rumpled and was a physically disheveled schlemiel. He was a nurse practitioner, not an M.D., and had the personality of a slug. No bedside manner. Joe had to ask him to identify himself – “It’s John” he said. This guy needed a charisma transplant – and a clean set of scrubs- Joe thought.
“Well, Joe, your heart and lungs sound fine and I’ve swabbed your nose for Covid and the flu.” he said. “Our quick test shows neither of these. You’re free to go and we’ll contact you if the more thorough testing is positive. Good bye.”
During the evening, his symptoms went unabated. He was feeling incredibly fatigued and his temperature was increasing.
“I don’t like this Joe,” Anna said. “There’s something going on here. Let’s get you to the hospital tomorrow.”
At 9 am Joe was at a local hospital’s emergency room. His temperature was spiking and the coughing persisted.
“I think we need an X-ray performed, Mr. Adamek,” an attending physician said. “This is suspicious, especially the sounds coming from your lungs.”
An hour ensued between the X-ray procedure and the reappearance of the M.D.
“Well, it’s just as I suspected,” he said. “You’ve contracted bacterial pneumonia. It’s what we call walking pneumonia. You don’t need to be hospitalized but I’m prescribing a strong oral antibiotic. Take the pills for seven days. This should clear up by then.”
“Doctor, does this explain my increasing fatigue?” Joe asked.
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “It’s a classic symptom of pneumonia. I’m glad we picked it up this quickly. You’ll be fine.”
“Did the doctor think exposure to Typhoid Mary was a possible source,” Anna asked when Joe returned home.
“I didn’t ask him but I think I could have picked the bug anywhere,” he replied. “We were on a flying Petri Dish and that oik still remains the prime suspect. But let’s put this behind us, Honey.”
It took two weeks before Joe felt better. The fatigue was the worst of it and that lasted for more than a month.
“Well, Anna, the end of vacation is behind us,” he said. “I’d rather accentuate the positive. We visited a different part of the world and the memories we have made the trip, pneumonia and all, were worth it. But next trip let’s wear Hazmat suits on the plane.”
Bon Voyage!
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