Covid Contagion

I read a really good book this past week called The Dreamers. It's a book about a novel virus infiltrating a small town in California, causing its victims to fall asleep and, in best case scenarios, stay asleep for weeks on end. Many pass away. The eerie similarities to our current situation couldn't be overlooked, down to the conspiracy theories, social distancing, and supply-hoarding. I didn't mean to read this book in the middle of a pandemic...

...but I did mean to watch the movie Contagion with Roy last night. I had heard a podcast with Katie Couric (sidenote: her "Next Question" podcast is really really good) interviewing some of the viral specialists and movie producers as they reflected back on the making of the 2011 movie in light of COVID-19. I didn't even really know about the film, nor did I understand how much they researched the likelihood ("if, not when") of such a viral pandemic. They wanted the movie to be factual and largely unembellished in the storytelling.

It was bizarre to watch this gripping, horrifying tale and feel yourself so grounded in it. Things that needed to be explained in the film for the sake of the uninformed viewer, that are everyday realities today. Still, there were some particularly violent scenes regarding looting and robberies that made me pause and offer thanks that it hasn't been like that. People have been patient, generous, and kind whenever I've been in public settings. I like to think that maybe this is bringing out the best in humanity.

Today I left the house with my antibacterial wipes, my hand sanitizer, and my newest acquisition: a construction mask. (Thanks Roy.) With the federal government now recommending masks be work in public I decided it was a good idea to begin implementation. I pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before Aldi opened, thankful that it wasn't packed out already, and put on my mask. It's a lot harder to look friendly when everyone is wearing masks. Those already in line were quiet, but it felt almost too quiet. I offered a cheery "good morning" to the woman closest to me in an effort to lighten the mood.

At about two minutes before 9 a white dude my age spoke in a full, bold voice for everyone in the parking lot to hear. "OK guys! I just want to make sure we're all good! Nobody's going to rush the door when they open it right? We've got this all under control??"

There were a few halfhearted chuckles. I thought he was trying to be funny (although he was no comedian) and the others kind of shrugged it off too. But he kept going...

"Guys! Seriously! We're not all going to rush the door right? This needs to be a single line. Because we have to stay SIX FEET APART!."

A few of us exchanged nervous glances at each other above our masks. We were six feet apart, just fanned out by the entrance.

"Why aren't you all in a single line?!? I swear guys, if I have to jump over any of you to get inside I'll take off my mask and start coughing on all of you!"

An African American woman near me started to sass him, "What you talking about? You're crazy. You're probably the one who's actually got it too."

A nervous murmuring broke out. At that point an older guy, who had been standing quietly to my left, turned around and it all hit the fan. Excuse my language here, but I really do want to record these experiences...

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!! WE ARE ALL DOING FINE AND YOU JUST HAD TO OPEN YOUR STUPID MOUTH AND RUIN IT! WE ARE ALL FINE AND YOU ARE AN INCREDIBLE ASSHOLE! SHUT UP!!!!!"

A lot more nervous murmuring.

An older, very zen lady cast worried glances at everyone. "We're all OK everyone. God is with us. Prayers for peace." She flashed two gloved hands-worth of peace signs.

Mercifully, the store manager (who is a tiny woman who can't weigh more than 105--I would have preferred a bouncer at that moment) unlocked the door. The first customer in line spoke softly to her and pointed furtively at the originator of the ridiculousness. The manager cast a glance back at him and watched with caution as we entered. We entered calmly, as we always do. I watched the cougher enter in and then dart off in the general direction of paper goods. I veered my cart in the opposite direction and didn't see him again.

Whatever. It was fine. We were all safe and, the really weird thing is, there's been more food in the stores the past two weeks than the two before that. But, as I continue to reflect, two things strike me:

1. I came down with an awful tension headache a couple of hours later, so it proved more stressful than I assessed.

2. It terrified me how rapidly the situation escalated. Like, a group of people who looked perfectly calm and patient became antsy, rude, and flat-out belligerent at the drop of a hat. That made Contagion feel a lot more real than it already did.

Take care out there friends. <flashes gloved peace signs>