I forayed out of my darkened solitary existence to come visit family in Washington DC this week. Like trying anything new post-Covid, the journey down was a completely changed experience. Some of it is inconvenient, like the fact that my favorite bus service had gone out of business, replaced only by a sketchy service called Masks on Wheels (sounds like a serial killers ad). But, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, Covid has also made vast improvements to many areas of life that used to be quite unpleasant. The train I took down to DC was only 25% full, had been completely renovated in a pleasing neutral desert colour scheme, and cost half as much. Even the station was completely empty of its usual throng of hundreds, except for two homeless men fighting, and once boarded no one sat within seven seats of me.
The last time I was in the city was when Trump was still fury-tweeting from a White House loo. Because of his, and despite the fact the pandemic was raging then (pre-vaccines) there were signs of movements, protests, and a general sense of existential exhaustion that usually accompany despotic sociopaths being put in charge of the world. Eight months later, the capital of America is deserted and it feels lovely.
Sometimes I forget how stressful having that man in power really was. My morning news is no longer a Herculean exercise in anger management. And though there are still active wars against minorities, non-white races or the sane in America, it lo longer has the implicit backing of the entire government machinery. Take masks. Because Trump and the Republican party prefer their own fictions to fact (a right-wing trait on par with unfortunate hair choices), the federal government had no policy on wearing a mask for the majority of the early pandemic. The result was that people felt emboldened not to wear masks in places like train stations, banks, airports, anywhere really. It was left up to the individual companies to enforce what should have been a government mandate and I lost count of the fights I saw even from my liberal foxhole. My last bus trip was an hour delayed because a white woman from Virginia had refused to wear a mask, demanding it was her right. She was eventually left behind at a Mcdonalds near Delaware, which is more than she deserved.
The biggest change since the election is the quiet calm of sanity that had come from a government in power that isn’t actively trying to destabilize the world. Because of the new laws and protocols, suddenly everyone is wearing masks, no questions. They are social distancing, getting vaxed. Of course vast swathes of the country and the world are still crazy.
But it’s not all roses. A year on, I can see a very real change in the landscape of commerce here and elsewhere. I had always assumed that NYC would be decimated by the virus, one which transformed its strength - proximity - into fatal weakness. But even in places like DC that are comparatively spread out, the toll of the pandemic is obvious. Gone are thousands of people crowding the streets at 5 pm after getting off work. The sandwich shops, dry cleaners and convenience stores that catered to them have evaporated, leaving entire blocks covered in ‘For Rent’ posters. The bookstores have closed, the clothing stores are empty, taxis wander around like deep sea fish hoping for scraps of food.
For now I’m sitting with my young nephew, and cliché as it sounds, his continued fascination with things like coral reefs and fart jokes makes me feel hopeful.
Hopeful that while we may not know how things will look next year or even next week, at least the joke shops that sell fake turds have gone out of business.
Write to thekantawala@gmail.com
The last time I was in the city was when Trump was still fury-tweeting from a White House loo. Because of his, and despite the fact the pandemic was raging then (pre-vaccines) there were signs of movements, protests, and a general sense of existential exhaustion that usually accompany despotic sociopaths being put in charge of the world. Eight months later, the capital of America is deserted and it feels lovely.
Sometimes I forget how stressful having that man in power really was. My morning news is no longer a Herculean exercise in anger management. And though there are still active wars against minorities, non-white races or the sane in America, it lo longer has the implicit backing of the entire government machinery
Sometimes I forget how stressful having that man in power really was. My morning news is no longer a Herculean exercise in anger management. And though there are still active wars against minorities, non-white races or the sane in America, it lo longer has the implicit backing of the entire government machinery. Take masks. Because Trump and the Republican party prefer their own fictions to fact (a right-wing trait on par with unfortunate hair choices), the federal government had no policy on wearing a mask for the majority of the early pandemic. The result was that people felt emboldened not to wear masks in places like train stations, banks, airports, anywhere really. It was left up to the individual companies to enforce what should have been a government mandate and I lost count of the fights I saw even from my liberal foxhole. My last bus trip was an hour delayed because a white woman from Virginia had refused to wear a mask, demanding it was her right. She was eventually left behind at a Mcdonalds near Delaware, which is more than she deserved.
The biggest change since the election is the quiet calm of sanity that had come from a government in power that isn’t actively trying to destabilize the world. Because of the new laws and protocols, suddenly everyone is wearing masks, no questions. They are social distancing, getting vaxed. Of course vast swathes of the country and the world are still crazy.
The sandwich shops, dry cleaners and convenience stores that catered to them have evaporated, leaving entire blocks covered in ‘For Rent’ posters. The bookstores have closed, the clothing stores are empty, taxis wander around like deep sea fish hoping for scraps of food
But it’s not all roses. A year on, I can see a very real change in the landscape of commerce here and elsewhere. I had always assumed that NYC would be decimated by the virus, one which transformed its strength - proximity - into fatal weakness. But even in places like DC that are comparatively spread out, the toll of the pandemic is obvious. Gone are thousands of people crowding the streets at 5 pm after getting off work. The sandwich shops, dry cleaners and convenience stores that catered to them have evaporated, leaving entire blocks covered in ‘For Rent’ posters. The bookstores have closed, the clothing stores are empty, taxis wander around like deep sea fish hoping for scraps of food.
For now I’m sitting with my young nephew, and cliché as it sounds, his continued fascination with things like coral reefs and fart jokes makes me feel hopeful.
Hopeful that while we may not know how things will look next year or even next week, at least the joke shops that sell fake turds have gone out of business.
Write to thekantawala@gmail.com