I blinked — and it was three years later

March 12, 2020

I was drinking with my friend Amy in a Welsh pub in Astoria called Snowdonia. It was pretty empty. We snacked on the Welsh sampler plate: cockle fritters, rarebit and so on. We both knew something was coming but I think we underestimated how much our lives were about to change. "See you on the other side," was the message when we parted. I didn't realize she would be the last person I'd hang out with, not counting my immediate household, for many weeks.

March 13, 2020

I visited Dear Irving, the cocktail bar on Irving Place, for the first time. There was only one other person in the bar. For the first time, I felt a sense of menace. Things were going to be bad.

March 14, 2020

I thought I should load up on books so I visited the New York Society Library where I have been a member for more than 20 years. The head librarian was turning members away from common areas and from the small study rooms which can be reserved in advance. She was visibly stressed. "You're doing a great job," I told her.

March 15, 2020

I was in Summit Bar on Avenue C. The only other people: the owner and a bartender. They were talking about how the city wouldn't close down bars. People need to get together and share a sense of community, especially when under threat. "Wishful thinking," I said to myself.

March 16, 2020

New York City has closed down. Mayor de Blasio bundled up my entire non-work life — restaurants, libraries, galleries, museums, theaters and concerts — and put it into storage. I can't say he was wrong.

March 17, 2020

The other shoe dropped. Goodbye bars. As the clock ticked towards 3pm, I stood at the bar in McSorley's. It had stayed open through the Civil War, two World Wars, Prohibition and Hurricane Katrina. It seemed the right place for a final toast.

Then memories of early morning ambulance sirens, the 7pm clatter of pans as people cheered health workers from their apartment windows. Masks, scrubbing groceries before putting them away, walks in suddenly deserted neighborhoods like Little Italy and Chinatown. 

Not only did this drag on for months; there was no clear time when it ended. A few bars started serving surreptitiously through open windows. Then there was the ludicrous period when Governor Cuomo, for no good reason, insisted we drink outdoors but only if ordering food. I remember a $1 processed cheese half-sandwich at a bar in Bushwick. Restaurants launched a jerrybuilt version of sidewalk dining. Theaters stayed closed for some eighteen months.

Did it ever end? In some ways no. And I don't just mean you can still catch COVID (I did, once, but fully vaccinated and boosted I scarcely had symptoms). What I mean is that changes visited our lives, then made themselves at home and stayed.

Here's my list of changes I will always associate with COVID, although I accept that some would have happened anyway — perhaps COVID accelerated their arrival.