Today is a big day for me. I have decided to go out in public for the first time in four years, totally mask-free.
Gulp.
Don’t tell me I don’t have guts. I don’t know about you but, for me, old habits die hard. Ask any kid in potty training.
I know – most of the free world has moved on from masks and Covid and pandemics, but some of us haven’t. I haven’t been to a grocery store, a doctor’s office, or a bank without my mask on since Covid was invented.
Masks have certainly gone out of vogue these days, I’ve noticed. Walk into a Tim Horton’s now with a mask on and guaranteed, some wise guy will look at you like you just passed gas from last night’s Taco Tuesday dinner every time.
Me? I’m a bit nostalgic about it all.
Masks were a common thing until recently. Why, they once came in every style and fashionable colour imaginable. People every age, from every background or demographic wore a mask. Even those who hated masks wore those useless snot-riddled visors that actors wear in disaster movies about deadly viruses.
I, personally, grew quite fond of my little M9 washable deluxe model. Rather than stifle me, it gave me an exhilarating sense of newfound freedom. Face it, if you walked into a bank wearing a mask before Covid, you’d be arrested. Now you’re a hero. I, for one, took great joy in trotting right past the ATM in the doorway and demanding the teller give me all my money – in small bills.
Oh, while I’m on that subject, is it just me, or has anybody else noticed that ATMs dispense money so slowly you almost forget why you’re standing there in the first place? Conversely, the last time I made a deposit in the same ATM, the machine sucked the bills out of my hand so fast I got a paper cut.
Banks are funny that way.
I also remember a time when even money itself suddenly disappeared. If you didn’t have a “Tap-n-go” debit card, you would likely starve to death during Covid, because no one in their right mind wanted to touch your dirty money.
Even sneezing in public was a felony. Sneezing in the fruit section alone could get you a lifetime ban, and heaven help you if you went the wrong way on a one-way grocery aisle.
For me, the mask was much more than just a security blanket – it was life itself.
I appreciated the fact that I could go an entire week without brushing my teeth, or get away with swearing under my breath at the mean old lady who ran over my big toe with a shopping cart – because she was going the wrong way. I simply loved the fact that no one could hear me. I didn’t even have to talk to people I knew anymore, let alone perfect strangers.
There was even a time when I didn’t shave or shower for months. It’s a shame to think of it now but I believe I could have saved a fortune on hot water bills and underarm deodorant if I’d only had a work-at-home job during the lockdowns, like everyone else. (Pro-tip: it helps to be single during lockdowns.)
Last Friday, however, the World Health Organization declared the Covid pandemic is behind us – officially no longer an “emergency” – so I figured this was as good a time as any to take the mask-free plunge and rejoin the human race.
You might compare it to skinny dipping in a public fountain on a dare, ahem, but it takes real guts to face one’s fears when ordering one’s morning double-double with a blueberry muffin.
As I stood in line, looking around at all the mask-free mugs, I felt a new kinship with my fellow human beings. We were as one again; a community of brothers and sisters in solidarity.
I began to feel slightly elated and proud of myself for being so brave, for meeting my four-year-old germ phobia face-to-face.
Then, it happened: some dude in front of me sneezed into the open air and proceeded to cough out loud in what I can only describe as some sort of inhuman death rattle.
It was then I decided that it’s one thing to face one’s fears, it’s another thing entirely to face certain death. Face it, after four years, I have no doubt my immune system has probably gone on permanent vacation until further notice.
I exhaled, turned around and skipped out the door faster than greased phlegm. I didn’t inhale again until I was in the parking lot.
Sigh.
You’re right.
I have no guts.
