When did COVID-19 begin to get real for you?

My day was Thursday, March 12th. I remember, because the night before I went out to a comedy night at Square Root in Roslindale. The host made it a point to bump elbows with everybody instead of shaking hands or hugging. It was one of the many suggestions to the public in recent weeks to slow the spread of Coronavirus. At that point there weren’t enough tests to confirm anything beyond a few cases. We were cautiously still meeting, unsure of what to do. Our leadership was too.

The comedy show’s theme was death, which was unexpectedly endearing but unplanned given the current climate. It was the last social event I went to before true social distancing took effect. As I watched each comedian take the stage, a fascinating and cringe-worthy phenomenon began: After dutifully bumping elbows with the host, the performers proceeded to press the microphone to their lips. I shut my eyes and clamped my mouth shut. Oh dear.

Humanity in a nutshell: We will elbow bump until we bruise, but we will also share a microphone and all but lick our fellow performers. We are so damn inconsistent.

By Thursday when more testing came available it was clear that COVID-19 was no longer across the sea. It was a town over. No more mic sharing. No more comedy shows. No more gigs. The only way to keep people safe and slow the spread was to stay inside. Now we no longer bump elbows. We stand 6 feet apart. Some of us. Because we are, after all, human. Someone’s always gonna lick the mic. I am looking at my 4th week of sheltering in place this week. Before I add anything else to what this time means to me, I wanted to write something down about the night before my world changed.