Sir, moo, sir!
Saturday, March 13th, 2021 Alive 18,218 days
Darcie and are both Pfizarians now. I got my first shot a couple of weeks ago when Nevada expanded eligibility to “health care support” people. Darcie got hers a few days ago when it was expanded to “retail workers with prolonged/sustained public contact.”
Iʼd heard lots of nightmare stories from people in other cities about the process being difficult and unpredictable. But for us, it was super fast and easy. I was able to make a same-day appointment. Darcie was able to get in the next day.
That said, the whole scene was like something from a 1970ʼs end-of-the-world movie. Iʼve never seen so many soldiers in my life, and I was in college ROTC. People in FEMA vests were herding everyone around, making sure people got in the right lines. The pedometer in my watch says the line was just under a mile long, but it didnʼt feel awful because, like at Disneyland, they kept it moving to keep anyone from getting antsy. Iʼm not sure it was necessary. Everyone had their faces buried in their phones anyway. I suspect just seeking some kind of comfort under the glare of the arc lights.
The Army, and whatever federal doctors could be rounded up were giving the shots. Darcie got hers from an Army doctor out of D.C. I got mine from a vet in the USDA Foreign Disease Surveillance Service. She said she was ordered to come here two weeks ago. She was vaccinating cows at the time. I asked her if I should moo when she jabs me. She said if I did, she might have to give me a rabies shot, too. So I told her, “You havenʼt met my wife; I might need the rabies shot.” That made the supervising soldier laugh, and broke the tension, which was good because I was pretty freaked out.