An American Coach in Belgium: Quarantine in the Time of COVID-19
By: Trevor Huffman
Tags: World, Self, Health, Sports, Coronavirus

A few minutes later, a black, dirt cake geyser shoots from the depths of my soul. Ironically, I note something mid-vomit; it’s the same looking mud-pie consistency I used to scream giggle about as a 12-year-old boy at my birthday parties on Torch Lake. In rare 40-year-old form, I lean over a bucket, stick my finger into the back of my throat and induce the rest of the dirt cake Oreos out of my system.

It’s 11:00 p.m.

I immediately feel better — wait, do I have the Coronavirus?

No, can’t be.

That’s just sugar overload, I think. My pristine former pro athlete dad bod is sagging under the weight of sugar like a concrete bridge in Guatemala during an 2.0 Richter scale Earthquake.

What’s the Coronavirus like? The flu? I hate the flu.

I hear the wail of Belgian police and ambulance sirens. I walk to my balcony and open my window. Blue lights flash by me. They must be going 60mph on a residential street. Where are they going, I wonder. I take a deep cool breath of onion-infused air. I feel slightly better.

I stand there in the crisp evening air. Aalst is a ghost town. The city centre parking lot near my house is empty. There are no other sounds. No walkers. No rambunctious groups of 16-year-old teenagers drinking Jupiler beer and creaking their bicycle pedals past my flat.

“Is there anybody out there?” I say, mist rising from my breath. “It’s me.”

Pink Floyd plays in my head.

I’m alone, 5,000 miles from home.

“Just another brick in the wall…”

There is no response.

I saunter back to my bedroom. My dog Bear eyes me from my bed. His two whale eyes study me. I slide down next to him, give him a kiss, and do some more research. I mean, what else am I going to do? It seems the mortality rate varies by country. It seems the Dutch basketball league is over. They have been crowning champions based on the final standings.

How can they do that?

That’s not fair.

Is this overblown? Hype?

Maybe, I think. It just seems to impossible that this can be that contagious.

I open my computer and debate on Facebook with a few strangers, and old Petoskey chums, which I typically never do. The flu kills more people, I type. This COVID-19 isn’t that wild. Yes, it’s super contagious, but how can this be that bad if it has the same mortality rate as the flu?

I have the sinking suspicion I may be wrong because I’m not thinking about the world of exponential mathematics… in fact, Batch, my favorite Petoskey soccer coach and Algebra math teacher, will tell you it’s never been my strong suit.

I see more pictures of Flemish fighting for toilet paper at the Belgian version of Costco (called Colruyt). I see students partying in the streets of Ghent, Belgium’s hippest city. I see photos of people stocking up toilet paper like they won’t see the outside world for five years.

Is this the beginning of our very own Zombie-style Water World?

Will I be Kevin Costner? Am I wrong about this? Is this worse than I thought?

I feel like the world is going insane, just like I am, in fact, we must be losing our collective minds together.

I get the weird urge for dirt cake and splitting game tape on Synergy.