Last week, I got back to Pennsylvania for a visit, the first
time since late February. That previous visit was by chance: free time, I
thought I’d be bearing down on finding a job in March, so may as well kick back
for a few days before this. Two weeks later, the world ended.
Four months on, things had finally leveled out enough in
both Pennsylvania and New York that I could manage this. Without my normal bus
line that drops me off a hundred yards from the house in PA. Martz Trailways started
running its NYC line in early June, out of Wilkes Barre, an hour north from
where I’m going. My siblings agreed to get me up and back on weekend days with
a week visit in between.
The bus ride was unnerving. The subway ride into Manhattan
was, too, my first since the day after St. Patrick’s Day. It featured one dude
without a mask coughing (I changed cars as train was still in station) and
another carrying on into his cellphone with mask dropped (I went to other end
of the car). This is the kind of shit I don’t want to see going forward. Subway
cars are not the street, and people can’t treat them as such. They’re enclosed
public spaces, the exact kind of place where this virus will thrive, and
everyone needs to wear a mask all the time.
Port Authority wasn’t much better. I cringed when I saw a
gang of about 30 people around the gate I was supposed to leave from, with the
station otherwise empty. I spied the departure map from the actual gate number
and realized Martz was sending out two buses at the same time, one to Wilkes
Barre and another to “Water Park” (a large water park in the Poconos that
surely must be a good getaway for NYC families), both trips leaving from
adjacent gates. I knew I was in the right place, the only one standing at the
correct gate for Wilkes Barre.
Finally, the drivers came in and told everyone what was
going on. It turned out a majority of those passengers were going to Delaware
Water Gap. In the past 20 years, a lot of black and hispanic New Yorkers have
moved to the Poconos, where housing was much cheaper in the 90s and 00s,
advertising that you could “live in a house in the beautiful Poconos while
working in New York City every day.” And that’s just what a lot of people do
these days. Which seems nuts to me, but I gather there are even people
commuting to NYC from Wilkes Barre and Scranton. As it panned out, about 15
people got on each bus.
I tripled-masked for this trip. Much like the subway, a bus,
especially a bus for an hours-long trip, is the exact kind of place I picture
the virus being a threat. Thus, a mask is necessary. I had three cotton
surgical masks and put them on, one on top of the other. It felt safe, but I
was still on edge. I heard one sneeze and two coughs during the trip. A
loudmouth kid got on at Delaware Water Gap and rode to Scranton, on his
cellphone the entire time, although I couldn’t tell if his mask was on. This is
the exact kind of shit I don’t want to experience in an enclosed public space.
While I wouldn’t say I’m dreading subway and bus rides going forward, I surely
anticipate having to deal with assholes who aren’t grasping how the virus works
and never will.
Rural Pennsylvania had such a different vibe from New York
City. Obviously, but this was something new. I noted earlier the discrepancy
between people living in an urban area, particularly one where over 700 people
a day were dying for much of April, processing this thing differently from
people in a more sparsely populated area with a much lower death count. I could
see just by walking around my hometown, it’s easy to go maskless as nearly
every encounter could be more than six feet apart.
Don’t get me wrong. I encounter maskless assholes on the
streets of my neighborhood daily. I don’t just mean people with that insulting “masked
pull down to chin” nonsense. I mean people with zero intention of ever wearing
a mask. Usually in 20s and teens. Usually male. The dipshit contingent, a
strange, surly mix of stupidity, arrogance and sociopathy. Rest assured, as
this thing needlessly drags on for months, it will be these sad clowns who keep
this thing alive and thriving.
My siblings had warned me, watch out for Redners (a
wonderful local market owned by employees, comparable to any urban supermarket
I’ve shopped in). The “live free or die” zealots had been purposely going
maskless there to wave their freak flags high. The governor had just passed a
public mask ordinance a few days early, but my siblings didn’t expect it to
have any effect on these geniuses.
Lo and behold, every person at Redners had a mask on while I
was there! I was pleasantly surprised. Frankly, every store and restaurant I
was in, people had masks on and were respecting the ordinance. The only place I
didn’t see this was Tractor Supply Company by the Walmart in St. Clair, a few
surly-looking assholes in their lone-wolf t-shirts, all scowls and angry eyes. They
should know, they have company in New York City just as dumb and misguided as
they are.
I have to admit, it was wonderful to run the back roads
around my hometown without a mask, where I rarely see anyone. In the entire
week I was there, I came across three people on my route: one dude checking his
mailbox, one runner and one walker. The closest I got to any of them was about
12 feet. (I really don’t understand how people go running with masks on. I can
do my four-mile walks in mid-80 degree heat and humidity, but that level of
cardio must be march harder. It seems like about an 80/20 split in NYC with
runners and masks, 80 without, 20 with. I really don’t care all that much as
we’re in open air and sunlight, save to say I’ve encountered too many runners
who don’t seem to grasp that nearly brushing my shoulder as they pass isn’t
quite six feet.)
People back there were just as rattled and spooked as we’ve
been in New York. We got pounded by this thing like very few places on earth,
but Pennsylvania took a beating, too. I’m hoping this isn’t the formula for
this thing to go away. That where you live needs to be ravaged by the virus
before you have enough people with sense to mask up, socially distance and
fight this thing. When you’re going through the virus in a harsh way, like we
did In New York City, like states like Florida and Texas are experiencing now,
it adds a layer of fear and tension to daily life that’s incredibly stressful.
I can tell people in Idaho and South Dakota haven't experienced this – people anywhere
where they’re going brazenly maskless and acting like this is a political issue
and not a medical one.
I had dinner with an old friend at an Italian place with
outdoor seating. Well, it was pushing 90 that day, and we found that the
outdoor seating was in direct sunlight despite the table umbrella. It was too
much, so we asked if we could go inside. I wasn’t too nuts about this, given
New York state’s reticence to move forward with indoor dining, but there was
just no way we’d last an hour out there. As it was, we were seated at a booth
with high walls. Frankly, I was more worried about the occupancy level, as I
could see the place slowly getting more crowded as we ate. (Pennsylvania indoor
restaurants were at 50% occupancy at the time, now reduced to 25%.) We had our
masks down most of the time to eat and drink. I didn’t know how to handle this,
if I was supposed to keep putting the mask on and off, or what. It didn’t feel
natural or right to have my mask off in this situation, but I knew the person
eating with me had been as diligent as I’d been with the virus.
Our high-school teacher was supposed to join us, but I knew
she was worried about potentially exposing her husband (with an underlying condition)
to the virus. She came to greet us but told us she had to pass on the indoor
dining. (I assured her the outdoor version of this would have been just as
uncomfortable!) Before leaving, she gave me the gift of life: an unopened N-95
mask she had from a painting project she was working on a few years ago. I
could wear this instead of the triple-mask set-up I had going for the bus ride
back. I’d never been so over-joyed to receive a present, like an eight-year-old
getting a G.I. Joe for Christmas! Hopefully, next time I get back there we can
arrange some outdoor meeting that works.
That N-95 mask was hard on my face the whole trip back from
Wilkes Barre. Hurt the bridge of my nose. Dug into my cheeks. But the peace of
mind it gave me to know I was wearing something that would offer me the best
protection possible was worth it. The bus was more crowded on the way back,
more people getting on in Scranton and Pocono Mountain than had got off on the
way in. By the time we left Delaware Water Gap, there were 25 people on that bus.
Roughly every two-seat row taken, no chance of getting six feet between each
person. I suspect if everyone masks up and does this thing right, a situation
like this is manageable. But I’ve learned in New York City, you need to account
for assholes, people who just don’t grasp the gravity of the situation.
Dropping their masks to talk on cellphones, coughing or sneezing while they do
so. I’m anticipating this as I know there are people out there too fucking
stupid to handle this thing. And it’s great that I can N-95 it for at least the
next few bus trips!
Overall, it was a great trip. It’s hard to communicate how
trying it was to spend four months in a studio apartment with maybe 2-3 hours a
day outside. That’s what people aren’t getting about New York City: most people
live in small spaces, often in roommate situations. This is hard to pull off
when you can’t go anywhere or do anything. That’s loosened up in the past month
(obviously too much in terms of bars), but our normal lifestyles are centered
on using the city as much as possible, counting heavily on public
transportation and being part of a bustling metropolis. No bustle starting in
March. Things got rough mentally by end of May. Just in time for a few riots
and daily protests. (I still find it hard to believe they’ve had no lasting
impact on virus spread.) To top it all off, the landlord had some troubling
health issues in early June. Nothing life threatening, but just enough to get
under my skin with all this other shit going on in the world.
I wouldn’t say I came close to a nervous breakdown, but I reached
a low plateau in mid-June where I felt isolated and unnerved. Not in a good
place. I brought myself out of it by maintaining the exercise schedule on the
back patio, walking daily, and training my mind to not focus so much on the
negatives and to let go of what I couldn’t control. It worked, at least so much
that I feel normal now and in a much better frame of mind. I’ve noticed one big
change: when something needs to get done, I just do it. Rather than letting it
become another thing playing on my mind. I picked up a few good mental
practices in response to the virus. My attitude is if this thing is going to
massively interrupt my life and make things hard for the next few months, the
least I can do is reduce the stress by removing extraneous bullshit.
Speaking of, I normally avoid politics in my writing. But I
need to state that the past few weeks have been jaw-dropping with Trump and his
“response” to the virus. Never mind the ongoing mask debacle that has most
likely led to the deaths of thousands and infections of hundreds of thousands.
The disturbing smear job of the CDC and Dr. Fauci has done even more to damage
the deadly, ill-conceived political take so many wrong-headed fools have on
this issue. Just when I think he can’t do any more wrong, he does things that
are like pages from a George Orwell novel. Only this shit is real, and it will
guarantee months more suffering and stumbling with the virus. I feel like I’m
living through a time in history where new lows are being created. That one day
historians will look back on 2020 and realize that it got no worse than this in
the history of American presidents, as if we were being led by a clandestine
operative for a foreign agency trying to destroy the country. I don’t get it;
the lack of leadership and constant mixed messages are puzzling. I’ve been
indifferent on Trump most of the way. The last four months have been one long,
unbelievable streak of inaction, unaccountability and childish head games that
amount to the exact opposite of what we need to fight a raging pandemic. I
don’t state this as any condemnation of the president. There’s still time for
him to take control, guide the country to a safer place and get this virus
under control, for the sake of our lives and the economy. I’m not holding my
breath. Are you?
