Benjamen Walker's Theory of Everything - Escape From New York (Social Distance Learning part i)

Episode Date: March 23, 2020

Coronavirus Evacuation! Your host decamps New York for a quiet isle in France and ToE’s Andrew Callaway flies home to San Francisco to look after Mom. Is this the end? No! Just the beginning of a new Theory of Everything series: Social Distance Learning.

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Episodes every other week at neverpo.st and wherever you find pods. This installment is called Escape from New York. Friday, March 13th, 2 p.m. There's a new teller at the bank. And as I walk up to the window, I can't help but feel relieved because the regular teller, Michelle, is totally fed up with me. Over the past few months, every couple of days, I'm either withdrawing $3,000 to take home and hide underneath my mattress or depositing the same $3,000 because I feel foolish about keeping so much cash around.

Last week, Michelle suggested I talk to someone, maybe a therapist. When I slide the $3,000 under the window, this new teller doesn't say anything. She just makes the deposit, hands me a receipt, and I'm on my way. We've decided to flee New York. Wednesday night, after Trump gave that speech about closing the border to Europe, Mathilde and I freaked out and bought one-way tickets to Paris. We're going to hide out on Ile de Ré, an island off the coast.

Of course, France is projected to be hit hard by the virus as well, but the idea of depending on America's health care system during a pandemic was just too much for Mathilde to bear. So we're leaving tonight. After I leave the bank, I walk to Arcto's school for pickup. About 30% of his pre-K class looks absent. When I tell Lynn, his teacher, that we're fleeing, she confides in me that she can't imagine the school staying open much longer. But Teresa, the young and idealistic kindergarten teacher, disagrees. Even the teachers' union is telling us that our safety concerns are overblown.

I have a father with respiratory issues, she says. Am I just supposed to forget about seeing him anymore? She looks beaten down. Ashen. This crisis has totally opened my eyes, she whispers. It's like we're disposable. I make Arctos say goodbye to all of his friends. Maya, Ariel, Yonathan, Zedin, Molly, Rami, Louisa, and Kian.

I almost tell him that this might be the last time that he sees them, but instead I decide to take him to Superiority Burger so we can enjoy his favorite ice cream one more time. As we're walking down 9th Street, a woman comes up behind us and tells me to get my kid out of her way or she'll throw him into the fucking street. I turn around in shock. She doesn't look like a crazy person. She looks like a normal everyday New Yorker. But then I hear the rage breathing. She's totally losing it. I pull Octo aside and she seethes past. I don't see how New York City's going to survive this one. In order to beat the virus, the city's going to have to go on total lockdown.

And while that might be fun and games and Zoom conferences and Google Hangouts for some, most folks are going to lose their jobs. And when they lose their jobs, they're not going to be able to pay their internet bill or rent or buy food. How many New Yorkers are going to be thrown into the street this time? When we return home, Matilde is almost finished with the packing. All six suitcases are overflowing

with books, but we can only bring 69 kilos, so I'm going to have to make some decisions. One of the suitcases is filled with books on broken windows policing. I've been doing a lot of research into how and where this idea came from, so I have a lot of books on the early days of the police foundation and the work both George Kelling and James Q. Wilson were doing in the early 1980s when they first published their broken Windows article in The Atlantic. I remove about 10 books and put them back on the shelf. Months of work out the window. Arcto immediately fills the space with his Playmobil toys. I move on to the next suitcase. This one is filled with my research on 1952,

the year the American government officially recognized the mafia, and the year the National Enquirer was born. It's an interconnected story, and I've got a pile of books and magazines I've bought on eBay over the past few months. These, they're coming with me. I've also got three hard drives filled with books and movies and television shows. One is nothing but post-apocalyptic stuff. I believe we're all set for the long haul.

Once we get the suitcases to the street, I walk to the corner and hail a cab. The driver is incredulous. You want to go to JFK? As we drive through the Lower East Side of the Williamsburg Bridge, I marvel at how normal everything looks. People are still milling about, laughing, talking. The lights are shining bright. I panic.

Perhaps I'm overreacting. Perhaps I'm letting my grim view of the world get the best of me. Perhaps all of this will be over in a couple of days. I take a deep breath and calm down, and then I purge myself of all of these unhelpful and destructive thoughts. The airport is totally empty. I've never seen JFK like this. I can't even think of a disaster film in which it looks this empty. We check in and go to the security gate. A couple of people are wearing plastic hazmat suits, but the officer checking passports

makes them take off their masks, and the officer running the scanner makes all of us take off our shoes. Once we're through, we wipe everything down again. As we board the plane, it's clear that most of the passengers are French. French workers, French tourists, French students. And when the plane takes off, everyone lets out a sigh of relief in French. There's no one sitting in front of us or behind us. Mathilde wipes down the row across from us and falls asleep. Arctur passes out in my lap. The plane is making this pulsating ambient drone noise. It's both alarming and soothing. I'd really like to record it,

but we've decided that we're not going to take anything out of our bags. So I close my eyes and imagine ways in which I can replicate it later. I was right about the other passengers all being French. Because when we land, we're the only ones who enter the all-other passports queue. It takes us less than 30 minutes to move through customs, baggage claim, and the taxi queue. When we get to Mathilde's sister's place, we take off our clothes, put them in the washing machine, and jump into the shower. It's now Saturday afternoon. Arcto is very happy to see his cousin, Rock. Both he and his mother are going to come with us to the island.

But she wants to wait a few days because she doesn't believe things are as bad as, well, our presence proclaims. They buy tickets for Wednesday. We are going tomorrow, Sunday. And after we hang up our stuff to dry, we head out to do some shopping. We need to figure out an internet solution. The cottage on the island doesn't even have a landline. So we go to the SF Air shop

and ask if we can buy some kind of mobile Wi-Fi device. But they're sold out. All the shops are sold out, the clerk tells us. There's lots of kids out with skateboards and bikes. Everyone is acting like it's just a normal Saturday afternoon. All the cafes and bars and galleries and bookstores, they're full. We go to Matilde's brother's place for dinner. He mockingly welcomes us in as refugees. My sister-in-law is kinder. This is just a big flu, she says. It's only going to affect the sick

and the elderly. But she only makes me feel worse. For dinner, we order some pizzas, and my niece and I go out to pick them up. When I pay for them, the owner tells me something that sounds sad and final. When he sees I don't understand, he repeats himself. Victoire kindly explains that I'm American, and so in English he tells me that I'm getting the last pizzas because the government has just announced that at midnight all restaurants and cafes must shut down. When we get back, I relay the news, but no one believes me until Mathilde's brother goes online and confirms it.

Nervous, my sister-in-law takes out her phone and disappears into the other room. When she comes back, she looks calm again. It turns out her trusted source is her cousin, who's a surgeon at a fancy hospital in Los Angeles. And even though the hospital has canceled all of his upcoming surgeries in order to free up beds for victims of the outbreak he's the one who's been telling my sister-in-law that it's just a big flu and that it's only going to affect the ill and the elderly and just now he told her France is overreacting with this restaurant ban

but at least I understand now where she's coming from. Her trusted source is probably the reason no one in this family thinks this thing is a big deal. Our trusted sources, they're going to kill more of us than any virus ever will. The following morning, we pack up again and head to the train station. This time, we have to take the metro. But it's empty. Paris is a lot quieter now, and none of us touch anything. On the train, there's a guy who won't stop coughing.

He's at the other end of our car, but still, he stays with us all the way to La Rochelle. At the train station, we get a taxi, who takes us over the bridge. The driver tells Mathilde that his wife has just been laid off, and so we should call him if we need a ride anywhere, except for the hospital. Please don't call me if you get sick, he implores. And then we arrive. We've made it. Our incredible, stressful journey has come to an end. I open up the door and we step into our little remote island paradise. Okay, the internet is still a problem. but thanks to my robust American data plan, I

can turn my phone into a hotspot. So I open up my laptop to fire off a quick email to tell people that we made it. That's when I see the email from the bank. The subject line is temporary closing due to coronavirus. I open it and start reading. Out of an abundance of caution, we are announcing that effective immediately we're closing all credit union branches. We've become aware that one of our employees has tested positive for coronavirus. This employee is not presenting symptoms. However, for the security of all employees and members, we are closing all branches until further notice. The employee

worked last week and this week in the East Harlem branch from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. On Friday, March 13th, however, the employee worked in the Lower East Side branch from 12 p.m. to 4 p.m. If you have not signed up for online banking and mobile banking yet, this is a crucial time to do so. On our website, you can access online banking. Also, you can download our free app at Apple or Android. The app allows you to make transfers payments deposit checks check your account balances and more from anywhere you are we'll keep you updated on your credit union situation stay safe Teksting av Nicolai Winther So, after you left, it took me another two days of mulling this over.

You know, whether or not I should leave. Because, you know, I have these two conflicting visions in my head, you know, one that I stay in New York and I have to watch my mother gasping for air, dying of coronavirus over FaceTime. And then the other that I go home to San Francisco and, you know, I'm the one who gives it to her. Yeah. You know know and while i'm thinking this over on sunday morning i'm listening to one of my roommates who's still working at a restaurant every night and he's coughing up his lungs in the bathroom and okay i mean it's not like i have any symptoms or anything but you know my mother is like a super at-risk person and she's almost 70 she's been

a pack-a-day smoker her whole life and you know she's got a pretty cavalier attitude about this whole thing to her she's just like everybody's gonna get this and when i do that's it i'm a goner did she have any thoughts on on hold on i thought there's a mouse in our house what are you scared about about the mouse oh buddy the mouse is the least of your problems oh yes i know man he knows all right so did you know when your mom told you this that you know the stakes were this high did she have any contributions to your calculus of should I stay or should I go? Oh, well, she definitely wanted me to come. But, you know, she also told me that she wasn't worried at all about me giving it to her.

So clearly we were not on the same page regarding the factors going into making this decision. But I just so happened to have a phone session scheduled with my therapist and when i get on the call i'm just like freaking out because i'm like you know if i go home and my mom gets it i'll never know if i was the one who gave it to her and my therapist just says well you know that's not true you could just get a test and i'm like well i wish i could get a test i mean hopefully they'll be available soon but you know i can't wait that long and she says well we just got four million tests on monday and i'm like okay i don't know about all that all i know is that i know people who are really sick and none of them have been able to get a test and she says anybody who wants a test can get one and at this, I'm like totally flabbergasted

because, you know, this is the person who's been taking care of my mental health for the past few years. But I just blurt out like, oh my god, do you actually believe Trump on this? And she blows up at me. You have no idea what I believe.

If this is how you're going to act, then we can't talk about this. But like, what else are any of her clients going to want to talk about right now? No, exactly. You know, so I say, okay, if we can't talk about coronavirus, I mean, I think I'm going to need a new therapist. And she says, I think you do too. And hangs up on me. Oh, man. But so I'm out of therapist, you know,

and I have this decision to make and time's running out. I mean, Trump's already saying that he's considering domestic travel bans at this point. So I figure it's now or never, you know, but I need some help. So I call my sister. I figure since she was also, you know, birthed by this woman, you know, I should get her blessing if I'm going to put her life at risk. So as you're both dying, you can be like, yeah, you said it was okay. Yep, basically. That's great. But, you know, the other thing is that, you know, my mom at this point is basically just going about her life as normal. You know, seeing friends, going to the store.

And, you know, I can't blame her. Like, my dad died a few years ago. She lives alone. And, you know, so I figure, okay, the least I could do is be like her corona cop. You know, and just like do her shopping and keep her on house arrest while I'm there. And so we agree that the benefits outweigh the risks, that I should come, and I buy a ticket. Did you feel at this point that you might not be seeing New York for quite some time?

You know, it was actually when I was buying the ticket on my phone, it asks if you want to bring a pet. And that's when I start to think about my cat, Finn. You know, if I'm'm just gonna be gone for two weeks or something and like you know i wouldn't want to put this poor little cat through the trauma of air travel unless i have to but i'm realizing that like i think this might be a long long time so i check the box and I head to the airport with my cat. Oh my God.

What was it like for you when they made you take your shoes off? Well, actually, I didn't have to take off my shoes because I have TSA pre-check. Fuck you. No, but you know, the thing that really freaked me out was when I was on the plane and they bring the snacks. The guy sitting in front of me, he took the cookies and then he changed his mind and he put them back in the basket. Which is like, okay, you basically just touched every single thing in that basket with your Corona hands. You know? And this is when I realized that no matter how much I disinfect my seat or my jacket, or if I wear gloves, or if I

pick up my bag from the baggage claim with a disinfectant wipe, it doesn't matter. There are so many other ways the virus can get in so you know i start to get nervous about how i'm gonna get home from the airport but i'm super lucky because i have a friend who's willing to give me a ride really who my friend allison who happened to already be self-quarantined for a couple weeks because you know she tested positive for the flu she was like super desperate to get out of the house and so she offered me a ride and why were they self-quarantined for the flu okay so imagine you test positive for the flu you're sniffling and you're coughing and do you really want to go to the grocery store and the time of coronavirus and have to be like no i tested positive for the

flu i promise you know now i don't i don't think that's gonna work i don't think people are gonna buy it no no no that makes that makes sense so you made it home and then what happened so i get dropped off and i'm on the street looking at the door and I realize like I cannot risk infecting the doorknob so I call my mom and I ask her to open the door so I can run inside without touching anything dump all my clothes in the washing machine and shower and when I'm done my mom's like come on out let's have a drink and I'm like looking at her through the doorframe and I'm like I can't go out there you know so I go back into my room and I start filling up my Amazon cart with everything that I need to make sure that I don't have to leave my room you know so I'm like cat food check

disposable plates and bowls so I can eat without having to go into the kitchen to do dishes. Check. A hot plate so I can like heat up soup and stuff. Check. I was even looking into getting a bidet, you know, just in case the toilet paper shortage persists. But it turns out there's actually a bidet shortage too. So I had to get like a travel bid day, which I'll let you know how that works. So, all right, here's a hypothetical then. So let's say 14 days from now, neither you nor your mother are dead. What's going to change? That's a great question. That's a great question.

Yeah, I'm still mulling that one over So here's what I want to do. I want to go through this wallet, and I want to see if the receipt is in here. Okay? Just one at a time. I'll show you. Some of them you don't even have to touch. Okay.

It's okay. I'm not going to get the virus for just touching this. I know, but why? The virus is not jumping on us, Benjamin this is not a flea, okay? So that guy, it's not that one. Yeah, yeah, it's gone. It's not that one. This is the card.

Alright, that's the bank card, oh yeah, yeah. So she touched that and now you've touched it. Yes, and now I have the coronavirus. Okay, so that's been in my wallet touching all these other cards but are you sure that's clean maybe we put it in soap I think we should put it in a bleach yeah let's put it in the oyster right now Arto puts it in his mouth yes but then we're gonna put that in the javel so put that in there too that's gonna get washed yep but do you think I think the bleach is gonna kill you no we're gonna be stuck in France without cash it's not that one

don't stop touching stuff that I know it's not that what can I touch and put everything in the trash about the tree why touch it if you have stuff from like two years ago. No, it's from... Okay, there we go. Put that in the pile. That's going to get washed. Don't give me orders with your mic like this. Like you are like a dictator with a...

Okay, that's a library card. Okay, we'll wash it. Your listeners cannot see that. But you have your mic like you have a stick. And then you're just like a crazy person. Like, do that! Do that! But why are you putting the disease stuff then you just like a crazy person like do that do that but why are you putting the disease stuff everywhere you want disease metro cards definitely not going to be

there's gonna be no subway left in new york you put that in the trash pile what? Okay. This is not funny anymore. Oh, there it is. I see it. Oh, yeah. I think that's it. Don't touch it! What? That's it! Really?

Yes! Oh, look! Ah! this episode is called escape from new york it's part one in our new series social distance learning it was written and produced by me ben Benjamin Walker, and Andrew Calloway. Special thanks to our family members. For more information or to get in touch, visit theoryofeverythingpodcast.com. The Theory of Everything is a proud founding member of Radiotopia, home to some of the world's best podcasts.

Find them all at Radiotopia.fm.