THE STARSHIP PANDEMIC

“I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life. I am it. If a count were taken, the score would be three billion plus two over on the other side of the moon, and one plus God knows what on this side.”

— Micheal Collins, Apollo 11

In late 2019, the Coronavirus made its debut in China and slowly found its way into the globalized world, creating the pandemic we currently find ourselves in. Time not only covers space but it can also create space.

On December 25, 2019, I was house sitting for a lawyer in Silver Lake. It was raining and I spent the majority of the day depressed and sleeping on the office couch that doubled as a guest bed. Later that evening, the rain let up long enough for me to get some air, as I walked around the glistening lake, I thought of how fortunate I was to be alive in this moment. It’s Christmas Day, and I’d much rather be back in Georgia with my family. Things could be much worse.

The reason why I was not at home with my family is because of my job at a major studio in town. When most Angelinos head out of town, I was very much alone in LA during its loneliest time. It’s a job that sees the highest peak of patrons during the last two weeks of the year. Those last two weeks happen to occupy my favorite time of year: Christmas, my birthday and New Years. On December 29, 2019 I grew one year older. I was 35. My 35th year would turn out to be the oddest and most difficult year of my entire life.

There were rumblings of an airborne virus by mid January 2020. I scoffed at it. I was more worried about my own financial struggles and the current state of the United States government. A virus that was causing mass death in China wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.

January turned to February. Washington state had reported the first cases in the US. February turned to March. The virus was everywhere. A full blown pandemic. As it turned out, the virus started in Wuhan in November 2019 and was in the US by Christmas, but no one knew exactly what we were dealing with. March 13 was the day LA went into quarantine. March 12 was the final day I worked on site.

So quarantine began. I was alone in my apartment for almost 100 percent of it. I had no car, and public transportation felt like a terrible idea. Like a rocket man flying through space, I sat in my tin can. I had my groceries delivered while everyone was fighting over toilet paper and the disease continued to spread. Meanwhile, I was lining the pockets of Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos. Bezos would go on to be a rocket man in his own right, while his employees deal with poor working conditions prior to and during the pandemic. Ivory rockets in flight, high above everyone else. Must be nice.

March became April. April became May. May became June. Then, the world started to unravel, and my introverted escape became a cage. Others felt the same way. Cancel rent. Abolish the police. Cancel student loans. Riots in Portland. City blocks taken over in Seattle. A combination of the two found its way to LA. Anyone that had ever felt slighted by the world, wanted to turn the board over and play a new game of their design. American capitalism and inherent white supremacy was under the microscope. A powder keg ignited by the murder of George Floyd that everyone saw. The world protested. The entire world. I was still inside, fearing catching something that you can’t see. Somewhere in all the turmoil, I was laid off after two months of working from home.

July came and by this point, my neighbors saw me as a strange recluse. I was behind on rent and my landlord’s new hobby became knocking on windows and asking about my financial situation. I was picking up deliveries with winter gloves. Late stage Howard Hughes would have been impressed. Then, one fateful July evening, I twisted my ankle while taking out the trash. On the concrete, with trash everywhere, I tried to gather myself. An embarrassing moment, because the reason I twisted my ankle, was because I was trying to avoid a neighbor as they came around the corner. I stepped right into a pothole in the parking lot, and then found myself scrapped and face down. This was the beginning of a downward spiral into a personal black hole.

Dad called me on a Friday in August. He then called me the following Sunday. He acted as if the previous call hadn’t happened. My mother said he was having trouble remembering and it was getting worse. This was the first proof of it I’d dealt with. My father was going to turn 79 on August 19, 2020. After nursing my bad ankle for a few weeks, things were starting to look up physically. Mentally was a different story. I had my first panic attack at 1am on August 19, 2020. I have high blood pressure and I awoke to half my body being asleep. My mind shot to the worst possible scenario: I was having a heart attack or a stroke. Thankfully, it was neither, but at the time I spiraled into an anxiety fueled manic state. I didn’t get to sleep until 7am the next morning. I had trouble sleeping for a week, until I finally met with a doctor. An EKG confirmed my heart was fine. Clearly my heart was with my father’s mortality as well as my own. It was at this point that I realized I needed to get out and actually have a routine. I began walking around the neighborhood regularly, at the very least to keep my head straight.

Fire season was now underway in Los Angeles. Two consecutive years of terrible fires ravaging a drought infested state. On the hottest day in Los Angeles County history, I shaved my head for the first time in my life. It was 120 degrees, and I was bald. I went from a man bun to no hair at all. Shortly after, my legs were going through odd pains. My doctor thought I was just anxious. Can’t say I blame him given my lack of sleep and a shaved head to go along with the anxiety and depression. The doctor placed me on cholesterol medication, something I didn’t stay on very long due to a reaction. I was asked to come back in December, but I decided against it.

October became November and November, December. The winter was upon us and a whole year had gone by. My mother was worried for my condition and for fear of me catching Covid 19. She has guilted me since I left for LA 12 year ago, in hopes that I would return to her. I moved away from North Georgia to attempt what so many others attempt to do in Los Angeles, and that’s make it in the industry. Despite small steps toward that, life is still a struggle. I remain motivated despite the trials and the self doubt that creeps in from time to time. My mother is a worrier. She’d unfortunately receive ammunition to her argument in the New Year.

Christmas, birthday and New Year were all spent in quarantine. I decided to not let it get me down like it did the previous year. I made a concerted effort to celebrate alone, watching holiday films on Disney+. 2020 gave 2019 a certain kind of clarity. I was looking forward to a new year, one that would provide a vaccine, instead of wallowing in the sadness that the previous year had brought.

Then it happened to me. Mid January 2021, I came down with COVID 19. I’m not sure how it happened. It was at the height of the spread in LA. I wore a mask when I did my daily walks. However, not everyone did the same. For twelve days I had symptoms. I lost my taste and smell and for three of those days I didn’t want to move at all. You can Google the other symptoms. Short of suffocation, I had them all. Meanwhile, 2,000 plus miles away, my cousin Ben also contracted COVID. His situation was much different from mine.

Ben was my aunt’s son. He was twenty years my senior, 56 years of age. After a month of fighting for his life, Ben succumbed to the virus. It ravaged his body and caused kidney failure. He had no preexisting conditions and was an absolute health advocate. He was in better shape than me. It didn’t matter. He’s gone and I’m still here. I don’t really know what to make of it. The randomness of this virus or the randomness of this life. I think about the 600,000 plus that have died needlessly and all the other lives effected by those deaths. Sadly, this situation has connected us in ways technology hasn’t.

Like most of the year, February through April was a bit of a blur. It’s funny how the year went by so slowly and yet in the blink of an eye. A time warp to be sure. The vaccine was finally here, but I had to wait my turn.

In May, I received both shots of Pfizer. I am fully vaccinated. Having gone through Covid and having lost a relative to this disease, there was no way I wasn’t going to get the vaccine. Unfortunately, due to misinformation and ignorance, others don’t feel the same way.

I returned to work in June, after a year of unemployment. Guests returned as well. No one wants to wear masks, but thanks to variants and the lack of herd immunity, LA County has made it mandatory to help back up the already in effect company policy. In September, proof of vaccinations are mandated company wide.

Having landed back down to Earth, it doesn’t feel like the same home. Things have changed. In the last year, I’ve seen the worst humanity has to offer from political office on down. People believe what they want to believe. Reality is relative. I’ve known this for a long time, but I saw it in full blown practice this past year. It’s difficult to stay positive without also being deluded.

And then there’s climate change…

Here’s to hoping we can build a rocket of our own, away from this time, to a better world.