UNDER COVID, PT. 37: THE 70% SOLUTION

"Now will you forget I'm still under investigation for
for sexual harassment?"

As the song says, here's where the story ends.

Gov. Andrew Cuomo promised to reopen New York state when 70% of its population got the COVID vaccination. We reached that milestone two weeks ago. Fifteen months after the City That Never Sleeps went into a coma, it suddenly regained consciousness.

The masks were the first things to go. Oh, it still feels mandatory to wear one inside grocery stores and the like. But by and large, New Yorkers are walking the streets with their faces naked to the world. It must be terrifying for babies, who heretofore never knew what other people looked like, to see strangers smiling and speaking nonsense at them for no good reason. For me, it seems like people made more eye contact during the pandemic, likely because, as with the Lone Ranger, they were asking themselves Who is that masked man?

My dining room should be so nice.

Restaurants, for a while at least, still have their outdoor seating areas -- rent free! -- which will perhaps help to make up for all the extra supplies they bought for to-go booze orders which are once again illegal. I, for one, will not miss the site of Upper East Siders getting blotto while hanging around public areas on Third Avenue. (My wife and I keep it on the down-low when we picnic in the park.) 

I'm glad they think this delay is funny.

Broadway officially re-opens in September. Just yesterday, we received an email from the Hudson Theatre promising that, after two postponements since March 2020, our ticket order for Plaza Suite  remains secure. As they gush, Please keep an eye out in the coming days for an exciting announcement - we can't share the news right now, but we wanted you to be the first to know that something is coming! 

That statement gave me pause. Nothing in the email says the show is finally opening. Just... something is coming! I was hoping it meant Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker would give a performance in one lucky ticket holder's living room, but my wife shot down that theory. As usual.

Folks have been speculating that the end of the pandemic would signal a something similar to the Roaring '20s following the Spanish Flu. Instead, New York has seen a 22% jump in overall crime (robbery is up 46% and grand larceny 35%). Stick-ups, once a night job, are now happening during the day. Shootings, too. Never has the word "brazen" been tossed around in the news so frequently.

I don't know what's going on here, nor do I want to. And
if I did , I wouldn't tell you.

The city's beloved Washington Square Park is now the nightly scene of raves, drug use, fight clubs, and general out of control mayhem. Forget about the Roaring '20s. We seem to be returning to the Unnerving '80s, when it was common to walk around with "mug money" -- an amount you could afford to lose -- because muggers really didn't like when you left them empty handed.

As usual, Bill de Basio -- Our Idiot Mayor -- apparently doesn't see the crime for the criminals: “We’ve had a number of nights where things went pretty smoothly. We had a few nights where they didn’t, but it’s going to, I think, lead to a natural outcome here.” I vaguely remember him condemning then-President Trump for saying the same thing about COVID. Weak minds think alike.

Once again, Bill de Blasio proves himself to be
New York's most perfect fool since Ed Wynn.
(Explanation available on request.)

Just to make sure we're aware how utterly out of touch he is, O.I.M. arranged for a  photo-op at a public swimming pool over the weekend. "The future of New York City is so bright I gotta wear shades!" he stupidly if predictably Tweeted, once again leaving himself open to verbal brickbats on all sides. 

No amount of cliches and cheap tropical shirts are going to help shootings go away.  Eric Adams, a former cop and our likely next Mayor, has his work cut out for him come Inauguration Day next January. I'm ready to bet anyone 50 smackers that, within a year, if crime continues to rise along with the general unease we're currently feeling, a columnist at the Times or New York magazine will write a piece that yearns for the clean, quiet, peaceful days we experienced during the pandemic. With a title something along the lines of I Admit It: I Miss the Days of COVID.   

And with all those wacky variants spreading around the world, that writer just might get their wish. As the closing credits of 1950s sci-films used to ask:

                                                THE END?

                      

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If you want to read a piece someone actually paid good money for, you can check out my latest contribution to Next Avenue here.