How flying in Asia during the coronavirus can turn the calmest travellers into nervous wrecks

I have never been a nervous flier – until last week. Even the most seasoned traveller is likely to get a little jumpy travelling during the coronavirus outbreak. As I shut the front door I do the usual “do not leave home without it” check – passport, credit card, toothbrush – with a couple more items added: face masks and hand sanitiser. Hong Kong’s in-town check-in is deserted at just after 10pm, as is the Airport Express train. I breeze through immigration, not even breaking my stride to put my bag through the X-ray inspection. Where is everyone? They aren’t holed up in the lounges, because Cathay Pacific temporarily closed three – The Bridge, The Deck and the first-class Pier – on February 12. The people I pass are all wearing masks. Without being able to see their expressions they seem aloof, making the airport feel less friendly. All around are signs about Covid-19 and tips on staying safe, some more effective than others. In the toilet, a sign requesting that users put the lid down before flushing is futile. The moment you stand up, the auto-flush goes off. I wasn’t supposed to be flying at midnight, but Cathay cancelled my original flight. It took 30 minutes on hold to reach a human and reschedule to a day that worked. The person told me cheerily that my revised flight was only 20 per cent full. At least, I muse as I walked through the forlorn airport, there is a good chance of getting three seats in a row. Three economy seats – and some well positioned pillows – will be almost as good as business class. But my hopes are dashed when I reach the gate. It is obvious from the long line the flight is full. Aside from a couple of backpackers, and a group of Norwegians on a circuitous journey to Brisbane thanks to Covid-19 restrictions, everyone is wearing a mask. I join the queue. When one of the Norwegians sneezes loudly and without restraint there was a collective gasp. It seems everyone is as on edge as me. A few days later, after spending a long weekend on an Australian beach, I’m ready for a relaxed journey home. Stories about panic buying in Sydney do not worry me – I’m a Hongkonger and familiar with loo roll rushes. The pharmacy at Sydney Airport is well stocked with masks (not cheap at A$100 (US$66) for a box of 50) and hand sanitiser (limited to five bottles per person). I request a window seat because that is supposed to minimise the chance of catching a respiratory illness. My spot is towards the front of economy, third row back from the bulkhead. As the passengers board, I wipe down the table tray – it’s the dirtiest place on a plane, more filthy than the toilet. It is then that the middle-aged Chinese woman two rows in front begins to cough. It’s not the sort of cough you might do to clear your throat, but a coarse, hacking cough that goes on and on. The couple in front of me – both in N95s – exchange a wary glance. The woman is still coughing when the Australian man assigned to the seat next to her arrives. “You’re kidding?” he says. The sarcasm is lost on her – she does not speak English. He calls the cabin attendant, who calls the purser, who calls a member of the ground staff. After speaking to the woman with the cough for a few minutes, the Australian is asked if he’d like to move to the rear of the plane. He does not. “If she’s got something, I’ve already got it,” he says resignedly. I wonder how much of that is bravado and how much is not wanting to give up the bulkhead’s legroom. The debacle has been going on well over 10 minutes and a cabin attendant warns if the flight does not take off it will be grounded. Another passenger asks what is going on and is told the coughing woman has not been to China within the last two weeks and “has opted to stay”. The N95 couple, sitting directly behind her, adjust each other’s masks. “Is the woman sick?” I ask the member of ground staff. “I don’t know, I’m not a doctor,” he says abruptly and adds that if I’m not happy I can take the flight the next day. And with that he exits the plane, the doors are closed, and we take off. A fair few passengers in rows 39 to 41 are more rattled than they were before they boarded. I wake up mid-flight and discover my face mask has slipped off. Perhaps in addition to masks and hand sanitiser, my new in-flight packing list might include Xanax. You can take all the recommended Covid-19 precautions – from washing your hands to wearing a mask – but it’s the luck of the draw who you get sat next to.