“I don’t get it,” I tell a waitress. “If it’s safe to go into a restaurant and pick up food, why can’t I sit here and chat a while.”
“You should be ashamed,” she says. “Quarantining is our only tool to shut down the coronavirus. If we let customers sit around here, instead of going right home, they’d give the virus to each other and to me and my coworkers.”
“I’m getting the hell out of the country for a while.”
“It’ll be about the same everywhere else,” she says.
I just shake my head and rush home to the computer and buy a great exotic cruise. Smartest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t have to watch Anthony Fauci and Donald Trump contradict each other about what should be done. I’m with a giant shipload of swingers like myself and we’re drinking and sunbathing every day and drinking and dancing every night and I’ll be polite and say most people who arrived alone aren’t sleeping alone. Everyone’s relaxed in a paradise of endless supplies and opportunities.