I'm torn on the "re-opening" narrative.
Yes I'm sick to death of takeout and instant coffee and my own home cookin.' Yet I shiver with dread walking down Broadway and seeing people inside restaurants (!) sitting at tables (!!) talking and eating (!!!).
Quelle horreur.
I also think it suits the oligarchs and Richie Rich's of the world for all the little people to get up off the middling couch of unemployment--paying better than their minimum wage jobs, a scandal--and get back to slinging cocktails and pulling espresso shots for low wages and shitty tips.
Walking up to an establishment is now an exercise in scans and quick reading.
The Black Lives Matter solidarity signs.
The Pride signs (sheds a tear).
The "how to wear a mask" signs.
The instructions on getting in, and getting out.
*
Which sign applies to me?
Do I go right in? Poke my head in? Wait for someone to summon me?
Coffee shops in South Lake Union have stationed a person outside their doors armed with hand sanitizer and paper towels.
At the fabric store last week, I hesitated in the open doorway, waiting for the thumb's up to enter.
It's all different.
I don't want to go back to "normal."
I want us all to be okay.
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