The Shot

“Have you gotten your shot yet?” A swimmer from Hilltopia stops me at the corner of 32^nd and Roosevelt. I haven’t seen him in a while, but he seems the same: Fit and friendly.

This is the latest greeting on my pandemic pacings. Everyone is curious if you’re on the road to immunity. Fortunately, I am and tell him so.

“Me, too,” he says, “Oh, here, let me put on my mask.”

He pulls it out of his pocket, performing the necessary adjustments under his hat and sunglasses. I’m glad he has the mask, but man, I’m sick of the whole masking up. It’s just so tiresome. And the experts are saying, (Who? Dr. Fauci? Kaiser Permanente?) that we’ll have to continue with mask-wearing and social distancing even after we’ve been vaccinated.

            Well, then what’s the point? I mean, I suppose I understand that even if we’re vaccinated, we might still carry the virus and transmit it to those who aren’t vaccinated yet. Like young people. And kids.

            But for groups of old people or fellow educators, if we’re all vaccinated, can’t we let our guard down just a bit?

            I saw on the news how a group of Old People, all of whom had been vaccinated, were out partying. (Can Old People party? Your bet your ass they can! Let lose Grandma! Shake your booty, Grandpa!) They were gathered in a park, all seated on their little folding chairs, like the kind you bring to watch Shakespeare in the Park, with bottles of fine wine, cheeses, and grapes, toasting to their newfound freedom from Covid!

            I wanted to join them, but I can’t drink. For other reasons that are still a mystery to me, but that’s neither here nor there.

            The point is, if we are all in a group and everyone’s vaccinated, then we can let loose a bit.

            I’m sure ready for that!

            It would be nice to be out walking and when I run into someone I want to chat with, we could just pause and exchange the latest without having to muffle our words behind a mask. Because as I’ve said before, I can’t really hear everyone behind a mask and people can’t hear me.

            The other night at the Dive Tank check-in, the polite young lifeguard asked me my name. I told him and he heard something entirely different---Teresita. For a moment, I thought of telling him I was Teresita. Maybe she wasn’t in the Dive Tank and had a Real Lane, but then I thought, what if Teresita showed up? And I was in her lane?

            Well, it wouldn’t be pretty. And, frankly, I’ve decided not to fight the Dive Tank banishment anymore.

            I’m just wishing that the Herd Immunity would happen faster!

            Hilltop Swimmer is going on about how Berkeley is supposed to open. What is he talking about? The Berkeley Y? He was telling me this 6 months ago. Is he on a Repeat Loop?

            Tonight, I just nod and agree that if Berkeley opened their pool that would be cool. Cuz all I’m doing is walking and Dive Tanking.

            “I have a rowing machine,” he brags.

     Of course, he does. He’s a manly workout guy. These types have equipment. Even during a pandemic. Or maybe esp. during a pandemic.

            “I don’t have a rowing machine,” I state the obvious, or at least to me. “I just walk and swim in the stupid Dive Tank.”

            He laughs. I can hear his amusement in spite of the mask. “Well, that’s better than nothing!” he proclaims.

            And, I have to agree. It is better than nothing, but hell, I just want to get my second shot and do a little partying, you know?

            Sans mask. Sans Social Distancing. Sans Anxiety.

            It’s time to embrace the future.

            If only it would get her sooner!

            “Well, nice to see you,” he starts off down Roosevelt, taking the mask off once the 6 ft distance is assured.

            “Yes, you, too!” I also take down my mask, tucking it under my chin, before heading in the opposite direction.  The evening light casts pink shadows on the grey cement sidewalk as I put one foot in front of the other, breathing in the cool spring air.