I went inside the grocery store without a mask. I felt liberated. I was free. I caught a cold. An old-fashioned runny-nose, puffy-eye head cold. Over the past seventeen months, I’d forgotten about all the non-COVID stuff out there that can get you.
Here’s a refresher on some of those dangers.
Pirates: They’ve marauded for centuries, surviving natural disasters and Peter Pan, so what makes you think that this latest pandemic would have done them in? They’re thriving, sailing across the seas under the good old Jolly Roger, never showering, never paying taxes, and never drinking rum out of anything but big clay jugs. They’ve just been biding their time, waiting for you landlubbers to book a cruise, rent a Jet Ski, or finally give that paddleboard a try. And when you do they’ll tie you up, steal your Starbucks gift card, and send you straight to Davy Jones’s locker.
Manholes: These are holes in the street that utility workers use to go below ground and fix stuff. They are usually plugged up with manhole covers, but sometimes, after a long day, the workers forget to put the cover back on, leaving a hole that you can easily fall into if you’re texting, daydreaming, or acting like a cartoon character. I’m not sure what’s down there, but I can only imagine that, as you lack the proper training, it will probably kill you.
Lawn Darts, Badminton, and Croquet: You probably didn’t use this stuff when you were all alone in your yard, but now that people are coming over and they don’t have that much to talk about—because who really does these days?—you’re going to need activities, and you’d be wise to remember how incredibly dangerous they are. Lawn darts go through so many people’s hearts that it’s like they’re trying to do it on purpose. Badminton is so boring that players stop trying to hit the stupid shuttlecock and start whacking one another in the face just for fun. And everyone knows that, if there’s a croquet mallet in a car trunk or within ten miles of a dead body, it was definitely used as a murder weapon. Pull up a lounge chair and be careful out there.
Gluten: I really hate to mention this one, but I overheard someone at the next table talking about it during lunch, and you should just know that it’s back.
Wolverines: Unlike werewolves, these are real, have really big teeth, and I just saw one on the Internet. I’m not sure where they live, but they don’t look like a lot of fun, and they are just one of many things lurking in the dark, hiding behind trees, waiting to pounce on us. Mountain lions, cave crickets, and hammerhead sharks are all real things, too, and are very scary. So are porcupines, grifters, and tax attorneys. So be prepared and get your rabies shot.
Other People: They’re everywhere. I was in the lounge at the Portland airport, sitting in my designated sterilized armchair, and they were all around me—the teen-age girl in flip-flops with a Princess Leia haircut; the guy with a waffle hanging out of his mouth, as if he was a bear and it was a freshly caught salmon; the woman dressed in business casual casually sneezing into her hands and wiping them on her stretchy suit pants. They’re all back, and, after many months of unchecked living, their manners have not improved.
Other People’s Wi-Fi: Are you going out into the world? Good for you. Do you remember what it’s like trying to get on other people’s Wi-Fi? It’s a living hell. There will be ads to watch, passwords and apps you don’t have. When you finally sacrifice all you know and love for a couple minutes online, you will most likely be sucked into the dark Web and turned into digital currency. Good luck and have your credit card ready.
Jazz: Everyone likes a little jazz, until you come across a trumpet player who gets carried away and plays the same note over and over and over again. I’m sure it must feel really good when you’re vibing out on D-flat, but if you’re forced to listen to this while doing the dishes there is a good chance that you may drink an entire bottle of Dawn dishwashing soap with a Brillo-pad chaser.
Poison Ivy: This is the stuff that waits for you out in the woods, usually where you least expect it to be—beside a beautiful path, at a bucolic picnic spot, or wherever you are outside. You hike along, thinking you’re enjoying the great outdoors, and then a day later—bam—the back of your leg, right behind your knee, is covered with blisters. It probably won’t kill you but it will make you run back inside, where you belong, safe from other natural killers, such as ticks, freshwater eels, and the sun.
Snake-Oil Salesmen: They may no longer travel around in elaborate wooden carts, but they’re still out there, with Web sites and advertising budgets, and they will razzle-dazzle you into buying their wares. They promise a healthy future and a better you, with improved relationships and whiter teeth, but don’t be fooled. Feeling kind of depressed and achy is normal, and anything above or below that threshold can’t be cured with an ointment, an oil, or an electric hairbrush.
Sunburns: What do day drinking, pool parties, and canoe trips have in common? They’re all fun ways to end up with a third-degree sunburn. The sun apparently hates us now, and no matter how carefully you apply that sun block you will end up with a red, gourd-like nose and smelling like aloe.
Laughter: There’s a reason that the term “dying from laughter” exists. It describes a condition caused by so much joy that you actually laugh hard enough that your head pops off. It originated back in the eighteen-hundreds, when people never smiled, never came out of the coal mines, and never heard jokes. When something truly funny would happen—like a rich guy falling down a flight of stairs, or somebody crashing one of those silly giant bicycles—onlookers would laugh so hard that they would die.
Too much fun is never a good thing. So lower your expectations, keep a mask in your pocket, and enjoy the summer.
