Escape from Covid island

 

I feel like I’ve been stranded on Gilligan’s Island for 14 months and now I’m finally back in society, but I’m dumbfounded how to react.

My brain was reprogrammed for social distancing when the Covid-19 pandemic started. How the hell do I deprogram it?

All along I said I’d follow the CDC guidelines. Now, the CDC says fully vaccinated people don’t need masks or social distancing, except in packed planes and buses. I’m free to leave the island, ready or not.

Oh no, it’s a bare mouth! Wait, don’t be scared. Unless they have terrible breath and start up a long conversation.

I’m free to shake hands and hug, I guess. Damn, I’ve been acting for months like a handshake will kill me and now I can dive into a human spaghetti bowl with fellow vaccinated folk?

That’s where the rewiring kicks in. When someone passes by me on the sidewalk, I need to remember not to sprint ten feet away (extra social distancing) like they’re a flesh-eating monster. When someone reaches to shake my hand, I shouldn’t look at them like they’ve just offered me a snotty tissue to the face. But should I immediately wash my hands afterwards? Wait, I’m vaccinated. I can rub my dirty hands all over my face. But what if I catch a cold?

I guess this means I won’t be working from home forever. I really miss spending 2.5 hours a day in Miami traffic. That’ll be fun. You mean I can’t wear flip flops all day? I need to break my socks out of storage. How the hell do I put on a tie again? You mean I have to wear a suit in South Florida’s 95-degree heat?

This means no more excuses.

“I’m so sorry. I’d love to come, but I’m confined to my home during the pandemic. You understand.” (Not that I’d go anyway.)

I’m back to pure, cold-hearted rejection. Maybe I can tell everyone my dogs can’t possibly live without me, so I need to stay home with them.

It’s a sea change in thinking. For months, the people packing together, unvaccinated without masks were the assholes. They were constantly ridiculed on media and online. And one day later, get fully vaccinated and you can go party. Not that we can tell the vaccinated from those who aren’t, but that’s another conundrum.

Now that the CDC says fully vaccinated people rarely spread the virus, I shouldn’t feel guilty about being around unmasked people, right? If they aren’t vaccinated, they decided to take the risk and it’s not any riskier because I’m there. And still, if I know they aren’t vaccinated, do I still shake their hand? Maybe I’ll fist bump, with one of those plastic fists on a spring.

We should keep up these practices after Covid-19

The way our lives have changed amid the Covid-19 pandemic has made be realize what gross, unsanitary lifestyles we had before. Some of the practices we’ve adopted to slow the spread of the virus should become permanent.
Whether coronavirus or the common cold, who likes getting sick?
I’m not saying ban all parties and crowds forever, but how about this? Stop shaking hands. I’ll be sitting in temple blowing my nose for everyone to hear, and people still want to shake my hand. One time I went to an awards events when I was sick and I politely, or so I thought, declined to shake hands with everyone. I got so many nasty looks. Would you rather know what my sore throat feels like?
Do we need physical contact to prove who has the stronger grip? So I can feel your sweat? Nothing’s wrong with a proper bow, or a salute.
And don’t get me started on the Miami custom of hugs and kisses. Just put your germs directly on my face, please!
Taking health into account when entering a store is a great idea. I love that the Publix crew is cleaning all the shopping carts. No more carts with empty wrappers and sticky handlebars. Please do that forever.
When hand sanitizer is easier to come by, it should be placed in the entrance of every store to encourage people to rid their hands of germs before touching the merchandise. That goes double for clothing stores. The poor clerks have to refold the clothes after some stranger with dirty hands touched them.
Some companies are investing in a touchless experience in the bathroom - automatic faucets and doors that open without a handle. It’s hard to clean objects everytime someone touches them. It’s easier to minimize the numbers of times people need to lay hands on things.
When you’re sick, don’t “tough it out.” Stay home. I’ve been as guilty of this as anyone. Unless I literally can’t get out of bed, I want to work. Now that we’ve seen how efficient we can be working from home, it’s not a big deal to work remotely if you’re not 100%.
For jobs that can’t be done remotely, hopefully employers will understand employees should be given paid sick days, because that’s less expensive than getting half the workplace sick.
Come to think of it, what’s the point of spending over an hour a day in traffic when you could have an extra hour actually doing work? Is it worth a 70 minute drive for a face-to-face meeting when you could have done a Zoom chat? People do need to meet in person, but not every day.
Now let’s talk about food. How come at buffet lines everyone touches the same utensils as they shovel the food onto their plates? Dozens of people handle the same tongs and spoons, putting all kinds of germs on them, and then they use the same hands to stuff bread rolls into their mouths. All the viruses you can eat.
Why can’t a food service employee handle the utensils for the customers? Or each customer gets a personal pair of tongs and a spoon as they head down the buffet line?
Then there are religious ceremonies. Whether a Christian performing Communion or a Jew doing a Kiddush, it makes no sense for everyone to drink from the same cup of wine. Don’t expect blessings to remove germs from the cup as it becomes a Petri dish of saliva. Why not bless the wine, then pour it into small cups to pass around? Only drink from the small cups, not the big one.
My ranting is over, for now. Why should you take it from me? I did write an entire science fiction novel about a woman trying not to spread an infection to other people. Moni Williams flees Florida for the New Mexico desert.
Take to heart these words in the the opening of "Silence the Living":

Her standing here alone was the only way to survive, for herself and every native creature on Earth.

When I wrote them, I didn't know they would become real for so many of us.