The Annual Quarantine
A thought experiment: four days offline in early February to break transmission chains (and our denial).
My 17-year-old “toughed it out” through finals week. You know how it goes—can’t miss the tests, can’t fall behind, just push through. By the time we boarded the plane to Hawaii for our family vacation, that cough had settled deep in his chest.
By day three in paradise, I was flat on my back in a hotel room, sweating through the sheets while my family hit the beach without me. I needed an IV drip just to make the flight home.
Now it’s the 26th. My middle son woke up destroyed at noon, fever spiking, holiday plans in ruins. One by one, we’re falling.
I first floated this idea years ago during the pandemic. Lying here watching another son go down, I’m more convinced than ever.
What if we just…stopped? All of us. Together. For four days.
The Simple Math
The flu virus survives on surfaces for only a few hours. You’re maximally contagious for about three to four days. That’s the window.
One coordinated long weekend in early February—when flu season peaks—could break the chain of transmission. Not perfectly. But dramatically.
“That Would Never Work”
I hear you. And yes, there are holes in this idea.
People are contagious before they show symptoms. Essential workers can’t just stop. Nobody wants to feel controlled like we were during COVID. I’m not pretending this is a fully-baked policy proposal.
But here’s what I keep coming back to: we accept tens of thousands of flu deaths every year as normal. We’ve built a culture where my son felt he had to go to school sick during finals. Where staying home when you’re contagious feels like weakness.
The Annual Quarantine isn’t really about the logistics. It’s about asking: what if we stopped treating preventable illness as inevitable?
A Thought Experiment Worth Having
Pick the first weekend in February. Or December even. Friday through Monday. Schools dark. Offices closed. Netflix drops their biggest show. Families actually rest.
Tuesday, we emerge. The virus has fewer bodies to jump to. The rest of the season runs milder.
Radical? Maybe. But lying here listening to my son cough down the hall, I can’t help thinking: the truly radical choice is accepting this as normal.