Flying the SARS route: Slip on your mask

BEIJING — We wore surgical masks and sat alone on long, empty rows of seats. Everyone quietly stared straight head as we waited in a room filled with the kind of dread usually felt at a dental clinic that specializes in root canals.

But we were waiting at the airport in Taipei, Taiwan, ready to board a Cathay Pacific jet for Hong Kong — one of the early epicenters of severe acute respiratory syndrome, or SARS.

Like most of the 120 passengers — mostly middle-age businessmen — I was planning to change planes in Hong Kong before traveling to mainland China, the source of the sometimes deadly pneumonialike illness.

The scene at Taipei's airport was surreal — a drastic change from my numerous other Taipei-Hong Kong journeys. Usually the flights are crowded with families, tour groups in matching goofy hats, retirees with shopping bags full of duty-free brandy, cigarettes and other gifts for relatives.

But this time, the fun seekers all stayed at home. There were no children. Those flying were hardcore business travelers, ignoring or compelled by work to defy government warnings to avoid trips to Hong Kong and mainland China.

In some places, people who travel to China and Hong Kong are being stigmatized. The people I talked to wouldn't give their names.

One Taiwanese businessman, carrying a black briefcase stuffed with surgical masks, said that for him, going to Hong Kong wasn't a matter of being brave or foolish.

"My company is making me go, so I've got to go," said the man, who declined to give his name.

There was no waiting at the check-in counter. Before SARS, Cathay Pacific would have offered 14 daily flights, but counter staff said that was cut to five or six.

On the plane — only one-third full — passengers were spread out, with some having entire rows to themselves.

A Taiwanese businessman sitting a few seats to my right only removed his mask to pick through a breakfast of noodles and pork. He resisted my attempts to engage him in conversation.

The flight attendants also wore masks and hurried through the meal and drink service. There was no chitchat during the flight of just over one hour.

They handed out white cards warning us that we might have been exposed to SARS and that we should see a doctor if we "become ill with fever, malaise and cough."

At Hong Kong's ultramodern airport, passengers were asked to lower their surgical masks at the immigration counter so officials could match their passport photos with their faces.

The Chinese government office in central Hong Kong where I had to get my visa for mainland China was also quiet. Getting my passport stamped usually takes three hours; it took only one.