I will be shaking the dust of this town from my metaphorical boots. Metaphorical, because I don't own any, and certainly wouldn't be packing them along if I did -- too heavy and bulky. Only shoes going along with me are running shoes and flip flops.
The questions that remain are exactly when to take off, and where to go. Much of that second question is wrapped up in things I cannot control - mostly to do with the situation regarding Covid-19 and how the government at the time is handling it. I'm not sure it could do worse than it is now, but hey, set a bar low enough, and the tangerine nightmare in the White House will find a way to go lower. As things stand now, many countries won't even accept a US citizen to enter their country. My, how far we have fallen. I can only hope for a change in administration, the development and distribution of a viable vaccine, or both.
My current choices of a first landing point are either Panama (I did like it there), or New Zealand. I like the Panama option as an initial landing point because of its proximity to the rest of the Americas to the south for further hops, and some familiarity. New Zealand is enticing for its being New Zealand, and its proximity to Southeast Asia and Australia. I have time to consider, and who knows if either country will welcome me. Well, not me specifically -- since I am awesome -- but a person coming from a contaminated, quarantined, and (rightly so) ostracized country.
So that's the plan: a carry on bag and my passport: travel light and flexibly and, if necessary, fast. Anything else I own (a car, some furniture, the rest of my clothing and kitchen gadgets) I will either sell or put in storage. With the Internet the way it is now, and banking electronic, I can be gone as long as I want. I can pop back to comply with visa requirements and see my kids, though, every couple of months.
What to do if I can't escape this shithole? That's in the next episode.