As this blog is a chronicle of, I've long had a love/hate relationship with my friend Ric over the years. He really is a great party-animal, fair-weather friend. But if the chips are down, for either him or anyone else, don't expect a lot of feel-good moments.
He called me last night and we caught up. It'd been about two weeks or so since we'd last spoken and, well, as we all know, a lot of shit has gone down since then. He has an aunt and uncle up in Mt. Dora who are in the hospital with Covid-19. Uncle Joey is about to be released after a couple weeks there but his wife isn't. In fact, she has been put into an induced coma and is on a respirator. It doesn't look good as, according to Ric, Uncle Joey said she'd have to stay in her coma for about a month. Well, I think we know that's just doctor to loved one talk for she's not gonna make it.
I expressed my best wishes and sympathies, but I also frowned a bit since it sounded like Ric was relaying this information matter-of-factly as if it were a news article about a couple of strangers rather than close family. I know he like these people since he visited them a couple times now since they moved to Florida just before Thanksgiving. He was talking about them with his mom while we were up in Indianapolis.
Our conversation then moved into the things we were doing and going through during our respective quarantines. And though I could detect a slight tone of guilt in relaying his recent activities, I also know that for him, this is essential Ric. He's been going to work at his insurance job in a small office in Winter Park, intermingling with co-workers and talking on phone equipment which may or may not have been sanitized, he didn't say. I asked him if he's able to keep six feet apart from others at work, he didn't reply so I'm guessing no. He says the company (AAA) doesn't have the technology available for them to work from home. But, he's excited about making his AAA membership goals this month and he'll be getting a bonus check!
Then he describes how he hasn't been able to go out to the bars since we're on lock-down, but he goes to fast-food joints for his meals every day. Ric doesn't cook at home. Not sure if he's using drive through or going inside to get his food. But he loves the new Popeye's chicken sandwich!
And since he can't socialize with a bunch of strangers, hugging them more and more enthusiastically as his BAC rises higher and higher, he decided to have a sleep over party with his "boyfriend" Miguel and his three sisters at his condo this weekend. Miguel recently disclosed to Ric that he has HIV and though I won't place judgement since I have no idea how he contracted that, let's just say he may not be the best at taking anti-viral precautions.
Ric admitted to me this may not have been the wisest way to "stay-at-home" and as I agreed with him I tried to explain to him, since I think he really doesn't even get what the phrase means, that the order is to reduce the amount of exposure to other people. Ric started to defend himself with "Well, he's my boyfriend." when I reminded him that you should only have close contact with those you live with. "But he doesn't LIVE with you, he lives with his family." He seemed to not get it still.
So here's the thing about social contact with people I think Ric and maybe many others in our "do as you like" society may not understand. It's a numbers game!
Ric, one person, comes into daily contact with X number of co-workers, lets just guess that variable to be at least 5. They EACH come into contact, if they're good and truly staying at home, at least 1 other person...these are low ball estimates, folks. And lets say out of those people, they then each, through walk-bys at the grocery store, essential jobs they have, or whatever, at least 1 other person. So with this family tree branch of the exponential equation we have what...eleven.
Now, because Ric is who he is, he snuggles with his boy toy, lounges around his living room with his boy toy's siblings, we have a whole other branch of the "tag, you're it" game.
Ric's already been counted in the first branch so we'll leave him out but Miguel is 1, each of his sisters are 1 and their parents are 1 each who all have their own circle of contacts outside with who knows, but we'll say 1 each (but they're Hispanic with likely a large family so...hmmm, yeah.) That's a total here of twelve. So for a tight exposure circle, we'll tally it all up to about 23.
Let's compare that to me. Me=1 and THAT'S IT, MOTHERFUCKERS!
I drove to Walmart yesterday to have my groceries placed in the back of my car by a gloved employee. I didn't even touch the tablet to sign for my purchase, I let him do that. Took the shit home, wiped it all down, changed my clothes and took a shower.
I have two deliveries of Amazon Pantry orders in the next two weeks further bolstering my supply of food. I'll let the boxes sit there in the hot, UV-rich Florida sun for a couple hours, then I'll gather them, wash down the contents and wash my hands.
I have no job to go to, no non-food shopping to do, and though I'd love to go for a drive and do a lookey-loo around town, I don't because I worry about what would happen if my car broke down, or, even worse, I got in an accident. Tow truck operator, needing to make a living, coughing as he comes for my car. Uber drive has a mask on but his car AC blows air around the car, having just transported someone with a fever and chills to the hospital. Or, I'm in an accident and need to go to the hospital, the place they have the sick people. Am I being paranoid? What if I'm not.
So, best of luck, Ric, but I'll put my weak ONE up against your strong (and likely higher) count of TWENTY THREE. Those are pretty good odds, even for a non-gambler.