The Vaccine Is Magic
I have seen the post-pandemic future: we all get superpowers, but they’re probably only temporary, so enjoy them while you can
It has been a month since I got the second dose. Now fully Monderna-ized, I’ve been itching to use my new superpower.
The other night, after 370-odd days (or 37-odd years; who knows for sure?) of eating every meal at home, all but a few of them exclusively with my wife, we and four vaccinated friends had a splendid dinner in a fabulous restaurant. We hugged and talked and talked and laughed and drank multiple bottles of red wine.
It feels as if I’ve just attended my first orgy.
That we were ushered into our own only semi-private space in the restaurant, and once seated we each mock-casually removed our masks — OMG stark naked faces in public — added to the effect.
I’m still a bit giddy. The beginnings of spring in the New York tri-state area (sunny, 60°, soft breeze, hyacinth shoots sprouting) have extended my happy daze.
It also turns out that resuming normal social life is just like riding a bike, a thing you discover right away that you can still do just fine. And then, delighted to be on the road again, you ride hard for miles (or, returning to the previous metaphor, fuck for hours) and feel wobbly afterward. Seriously: group socializing was a workout.
I’ve also found myself the last 24 hours having thoughts of a particular and for me unusual kind. Yesterday afternoon: Look, we’re driving up Pie Hill Road toward Popple Swamp Road and after a turn on Dibble Hill Road we’ll be at the covered bridge! And later, tidying the kitchen sink, aiming the faucet at food bits to gather them in the strainer: Look, it’s like I’m herding sheep! Then as soon as I awoke this morning, I took this picture —
— because the shoes looked as if they might start dancing…with that wooden tai chi sword in the corner joining in.
In other words, my life is turning into a children’s book. Or maybe some other genre of magical realism. In any case, I know it’s probably not going to last forever.