We pulled up to a COVID testing site.
“You really didn’t have to come with me.”
Nancy’s been saying this a lot more often. I’m starting to get concerned. It’s almost like she’d sometimes prefer my not being there.
Whatever.
“I’m here for you, for moral support.”
It was in a sprawling parking lot, lines of cars queued up to enter a temporary tunnel structure, inside of which the testing was done.
“Look at that, there’s a little red and green traffic light at the opening of the tunnel.” I pointed at it for Nancy to see.
“Oh yeah. I guess they just don’t want bumper-to-bumper cars in there with the exhaust and all,” she surmised.
“It looks like a car wash, doesn’t it? I need a picture of this for Facebook. There’s a joke in there somewhere…”
I raised my phone and aimed it at the opening of the COVID test tunnel. This got the attention of the COVID crossing guard whose job was to tell cars to stop or drive in. He walked up to my window and did that rowing motion with his arm, the universal “roll down your window” sign.
I did.
“No pictures or video allowed here…” he said muffled through his mask.
“You don’t have to do that, you know- the window thing you did with your arm.” I told him.
“What?”
“This (I imitated what he did). I have electric windows. You just have to do this if you want me to open it.” I wiggled my index finger like it was picking a scab. “…like you’re pressing the button. No more cranking windows for me. I’m a 21st century man now.”
“Right. Videos or pictures -don’t do it.”
“Understood.”
I assumed he was surly because he was overworked, and standing in that tent all day scraping nostrils has to wear a guy down.
He headed back to his post.
I called out to him, “Hey, is it too late to add the hot wax?”
He didn’t respond.
“…probably didn’t hear me,” I mumbled.
I turned to Nancy who had the death stare at me in full force.
“Uh oh. What?”
“Great, Higgins. Annoy the people who are going to shove s’mores sticks up my nose.”
“Moral support, Nance. I’m here for you.”