Arriving at Sydney airport on Thursday morning ahead of a flight to Queensland for my grandfather's funeral the terminal was a ghost town.
All of the shops were shuttered closed, and airport staff were standing at the ready with water bottles and face masks.
Everywhere I looked there was a sign reminding me to keep my distance and a few nervous-looking people, like me, wandering around the usually buzzing corridors.
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Already mask clad myself, I made my way to my gate to wait for my flight, taking comfort in the fact there were plenty of seating areas around me that had been blocked off to stop people sitting in the direct vicinity of others.
I think that's why I was so taken aback when I stepped on to the plane.
Walking down the plane aisle it became evident very quickly that whatever rules existed on the ground were being thrown out the window, literally, in the sky.
The plane was full. Completely full.
For the first time in five months, I found myself sitting shoulder to shoulder with 200 strangers, only half of whom were wearing a mask.
It was confronting and confusing and to be honest, terrifying.