Vaccinated!

When decades from now, after this pandemic has long been conquered, the bodies buried, the memories faded, little kids will ask their parents about it and study it in school.

I will be a tiny part of that history, because I simply lived during this time.

Today, I got vaccinated.  

Phizer brand.

The bird lady came to drive me to the Fairgrounds, where the clinic was being held.  I hadn't known if I'd be driving by now with my back trouble.  She was late.  I chided her for being late.  I don't like to be late.

There were two lines for cars, when we turned into the fairgrounds.  She had already gotten both doses so knew the drill and got in one line, then suddenly decided the other would be faster and swerved into that line.   They handed me a sheet of paperwork through the window and directed me to fill it out and park.  I filled it out on both sides.  The Bird Lady was apologetic for being late picking me up and tried to make up for it, with cursing at slow cars and then decided to drive me right up to the gates where you form into a line, to have your temp checked, before being allowed to proceed towards the first stage of vaccination.  As I finished filling out the paperwork, my driver parked behind a deputies car, blocking him in.  I couldn't stop laughing through my mask.

"I had no idea you have such an extensive vocabulary," I told her, between laughs, as she cursed at another driver.

I went through the gate after showing them my paperwork and passing the temp test.  Next you wait in one of a few lines to be processed by a check in volunteer, clicking a laptop.  There were about four tables and four lines.  I tried to choose the shortest line but they were about the same and it took maybe 15 minutes, even though I think there were just three people ahead of me.  There were possibly 30 or so other people there.  After you get through that line, you are given an armband, green if you are good to go, a vaccine card, with date of second appointment and told to go to another auditorium for the vaccine itself.

When I entered that building there were four lines of people, in lanes, waiting.  Two volunteers manned the opening that allowed you to proceed to one of the about 40 vaccine stations but only about ten of them were occupied by staff.  When one station was done giving a shot, they held up a red flag, to let the line keepers know to send another candidate to their table for the shot.  Getting through this line took the longest.

I got the vaccine then and was given a sticker with a time 15 minutes later on it.  I was to wait in the next room until that time, in case I had a reaction, then I could leave.  There was a clock on the front table.   When you left, you turned your chair sideways.  One of two cleaners would then come spray it down.

I thought there would be more cheering.  I felt it was a monumental event in the history of mankind.  I would not be one of the bodies bulldozed into a pit and burned, I said to myself, as I fingered the green wristband.   But it was a subdued bunch.  There were fewer than 20 other people in other chairs, in the wait out the 15 minutes post vaccine room.  All were quite distanced from one another and there was no chatting.

The bird lady was waiting in her drab tan car, parked the wrong way, waving out the window to attract my attention.  

When I saw her, I held my right arm high to show off my green wrist band and let out a whoop.

In the end, the vaccination experience was just as lonely as the pandemic itself.  I would have liked to have been met by a cheer leading squad with pom poms, a marching band, a live show, with actors dressed as peasants driving the grim reaper out of their village--something.

I wonder how they'll talk about this time, 100 years from now, and how we behaved.  I wonder what they'll think of anti mask protests and mask tantrums in grocery stores videos.  

I wonder if they'll be any humans still alive in 100 years.  Or with the pandemic ancient history, will handfuls of humans crouch in terror as darkness and ash choke all life from the planet after that darn meteor survives whats left of  Earth's atmosphere and smashes into Chicago.  Or Portland.