Well, we’re back from Indiana, and I’m hitting the ground running like a freshly excreted dog turd onto a frosty spring lawn.
The four-day trip into America’s heartland of COVID negligence for a soccer tournament was better than I thought (in that it happened at all) and just as bad as I thought (aforementioned negligence, combined with COVID fuckedupedness and guilt).
I’ll explain a bit.
Right up until the day we were to haul our 2.5 vaccinated arms to Indiana, we were unsure if we would be leaving at all. B’s team gets tested for COVID each week, and the most recent tests had five kids out due to positive tests or contact tracing. This meant that the team had to scramble to find some younger 05 players to play up to the 04 team AND have the tournament gods approve the measure. As you can probably tell, it all worked out.
While Indiana talks a good game with mask mandates and signs promoting social distancing and vaccinations, it is clear that the good people of America’s heartland couldn’t give a shit, and when it was not uncommon for we Michiganderburgherites to be the only people wearing masks on the touchline or in stores, and our team was (for better or worse) the only team playing in masks due to a rule by the club’s governing body.
Again, I don’t want to bitch too much because I was stoked for the team that it happened at all, and after losing a club season to COVID in 2020, it was nice to see B playing in 2021; it’s just that tournament weekend are usually filled with the team getting together for meals, the boys hanging out and having fun, and the parents gathering for adult beverages and goofing off at night.
There was almost none of that for us this year, and we spent nearly the entire trip in the hotel room, and the ONE night my full vaccinated self ventured down to the hotel lounge to grab a beer with two other dads, I felt guilt for enjoying myself as I sat in a public place with friends for the first time in over a year. For what it’s worth, no one else in the lounge appeared to be experiencing such guilt. I blame my “you’re going to hell for even thinking of having fun” Catholic upbringing.
Despite all that, it worked out, and it appears that so far, we didn’t bring the virus back with us. B was tested again on Monday and was negative, but that’s not to say that we were out of the woods. Sigh.
I have learned over this past year that the adult white male is one of the biggest pussies in the world and that, for the most part, kids rule, at least I think so.
“Get a test!”
“Get another test!!!”
“Wear your mask!!”
“Wear your mask while you play soccer!!”
“Get a test!”
Meanwhile, I see adults wearing their fascist “blue lives matter” hoodies exit a grocery store, take off their masks and hyperbolically gasp for air like they’re non-white people getting teargassed at a human rights protest.
I know that some of my ranting here may come off as judgemental and self-righteous, and I apologize for that. I also realize that we could take all the precautions mentioned above and STILL get the fucking virus. (RAGE SIGH!!) It’s just that it’s been over a year with this shit, and I crave normality like a fat kid craves carbs. Having said that, I thank B for his ongoing patience with all this and for his support when he sees me getting stressed out about it. “It’s just a test, Dad, it’ll be OK,” he said to me yesterday as I stressed about how to get him tested in time for the week’s scheduled activities.
I will sleep better in a week when he is fully vaccinated.