Rick McLean: Mask-free at last. well sort of. , saltwire
Rick McLean is an instructor in the journalism program at Holland College in Charlottetown.
This was the instinct. I grabbed car keys, banking cards, and phones – grandkids can show up on FaceTime at any time and the world stops when it happens.
and mask.
That’s what two years of playing covid footsy with Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, Omicron, Oh-My-Whatever and B-Something-or others will do for you.
What are the rules for masks anyway?
Nova Scotia and New Brunswick Both Said in March, What Rules? Wear one, don’t wear one. your call. Take a deep breath and go on your way. PEI ready to participate in the parade, then changed his mind, talk to us on April 28, they are saying.
Walking through an off-island parking lot over the weekend, the mask was jammed firmly in my back pocket.
“Free at last,” I thought. “Never again.”
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I looked around.
The old man was – I’m closing in on 65 early on, but the guys wearing ball hats fighting to control the lash of white hairs trying to avoid all angles are still old people to me.
Masked. in the parking lot. A lovely spring day. Eye turn.
“Have people not figured out by now that you don’t have to wear a mask when you’re out?” I sighed.
I inserted my mask deep into my pocket, and risked messing it up with the chewing gum I had stored there a few minutes earlier.
“You can stay there,” I said out loud.
The woman in the grocery cart filled with more bags of chips and celery than I’d ever seen before, stared at me.
“Who are you talking to?” said his eyes.
My eyes answered with kindness.
“Chips and celery? Going to eat a lot of celery to compensate for all those chips,” I thought.
“Good day,” is what I said.
She smiled, sort of. No mask.
Masks are mandatory on the sliding doors and no more than 200 people are allowed inside at any one time. So was the hand washing station. just like old times.
As I grabbed the shopping cart and walked in, I began to whistle quietly, leaving behind fruits and vegetables, fished for the aisle with cat food.
The arrow was still there on the floor. Who said that I am entering from the wrong end. I must go down an aisle, then turn around to walk on it.
I stepped on the arrow and went on my way. The young couple staring at the kitty litter saw me approach. They came near the litter bags. They were masked.
“It’s kitty litter, it’s all the same, choose the cheapest, or throw the cat out twice a day,” I thought.
“Good day,” is what I said.
Halfway through ice cream, I saw an old friend who had recently retired. He waved and smiled. At least, I think he smiled. It’s hard to tell when someone is wearing a mask with the Toronto Maple Leafs logo on it.
I started again. But when I turned around the corner, he was at the other end of the aisle.
“Did he just run away from me?” I thought.
Another woman stared. Maybe I said it out loud.
“Yeah, I’m not wearing a mask and my old college friend ran in the other direction on seeing me,” I thought.
“Good day,” is what I said.
Justin Markey puts up social distancing stickers on the floor of a Bayshore shopping center as he gets back to business. – Gene Levacki
Salted caramel some or other ice cream in the cart, I headed to the checkout.
The maiden behind the register, and the plexiglass anti-covid shield, smiled. No mask.
“Did you find everything you were looking for?” He asked.
“Mmmf.. Ice cream… Mumf… Celery,” I said.
Somehow, the mask had come off my back pocket and on my face.
She laughed.
“Mumf… day,” I attempted.
“Have a nice day too,” she said, chirping.
