My scheduled appointment was at 10am. I arrived at the vaccination centre and 9:56am. Although traffic cones by the thousands were prestigiously aligned, most certainly capable of guiding hundreds if not thousands of cars, there was no vaccinations being given in cars. In fact, the only cars there were those parked at reserved spaces. So we drove up to the entrance of the old concert hall. A concert hall, btw, where I saw Judas Priest back in the day (forty years ago, perhaps). Turns out that the authorities had changed the office-hours for that days vaccines. It wasn’t open till noon. Bummer, I thought. If only they would have told me that earlier I wouldn’t have put all the effort into driving the 40miles to get their on-time. Heck, they even sent me a reminder the night before–I guess to make sure as best they could that I would show up to get the shot. For don’t you know, dear worst-reader, there really are #Americants that refuse to get vaccinated. As simple minded as that sounds, I suppose for any admirer of #Americants past, you know, where it actually did things and built things and maybe, just maybe, fought wars that had some semblance of merit… But I digress.
Turns out while I was killing the two hours instead of driving back home that I finally gave an earnest look at the previous reminder email I had received. And guess what, dear worst-reader? I screwed up. At the bottom of the reminder email they had actually included a new appointment time. So it’s all on me that I wasted the morning. That worst-said, the two hours went by pretty fast as I drove around Salisbury, which I hadn’t done in at least ten years. But I won’t bore you with that.
When I returned to the vaccination centre two hours later things were hopping. Although clearly under capacity, I was somewhat relieved that people were getting vaccinated at all. And since I was at the Pfizer facility, which only recently had been approved for young people, it was nice to see the youth was there en masse getting their shots. Indeed, dear worst-reader. All the newz about how #Americants and their misconstrued skepticisms could actually prevent if not delay the eradication of this obnoxious disease really turns my pickle back into a cucumber. But let’s not go there.
Needless to say I got my first shot with ease and it couldn’t have been easier. With that in mind, does this mean that I might have to consider alternative nomenclature for my beloved & missed #Americant for the success of making this available? Does the success of vaccinations–at least for those willing to get vaccinated–warrant perhaps going back to calling HER America? Now. Now. Calm the fcuk down, baby. Let’s not get out of hand. Instead, let’s wait things out. Let’s give it all a bit more time. I mean. Who knows what these MRNA thingies are doing with me right this sec as I worst-type these words. Even though I’ve felt nothing since receiving my shot, things could be happening behind the scenes. My cells might be changing and dancing more. My DNA could be adapting–or not–better forms of anti-body-cells and whatnot. Are my brain cells swelling to where I might actually and voluntarily watch faux newz? I think not. And with that in worst-mind, it’s approaching that hour where I must cope with jet-lag. So too does my beloved & missed #Americant for which I’m grateful that I could get a shot in the arm today.
PS No pictures allowed on the entire grounds of the vaccination site.