I’m Not Going Back Inside
Life is short — live dangerously.
[*lights cigarette*]
Some of you will find what I’m about to say offensive — bordering on reckless. But there’s something I want to say because it’s something that I feel viscerally, and I wanna get it off my chest and on the record, and what better way to say what’s on your mind than to press a green “Publish” button on a blog to a few fistfuls of strangers? Beats tweeting. (What doesn’t?)
Alright, here goes: I’m done with the pandemic. I’m done staying inside, staying home, standing six feet apart from you … all of it. I’m finished. I just wrapped up attending a 300-human indoor wedding in New York without a mask, riding the 7 to all corners of Queens and the G through Brooklyn and the LIRR everywhere else. Covid was with me on the train, in bed with me at the hotel, in every hug and kiss. It even made the trip back to Austin with me and spent over a week in my home. It did nothing; I felt nothing. And that wedding was fucking awesome.
It’s not the first time I’d been so obviously exposed: In August 2021 when I shared a hotel room, a brewery tour bus, several plates of food, and an even greater quantity of beers and cocktails with it while at a bachelor party in Vermont.
