tiny ducks and paying it forward
Hello from my sick bed, where I am battling my third consecutive case of Covid. If there are typos in here, it's Nyquil's fault.
The timing sucks. I was supposed to pick this dude Ben up from the airport this morning, show him around the city, let him sleep in my spare bedroom, and then tomorrow he was going to be my copilot on the drive down to the music festival of my dreams, a 3-day, 40-band event in Hampton, VA.
Instead I booked Ben into a hotel, played tour guide by text, and hoped he could figure out how to get to Hampton tomorrow from either Norfolk or Newport News, because for some reason (probably racism), no buses or trains go from DC to Hampton.
I was feeling sorry for myself because I had been looking forward to this event for two entire years. Because this astrological retrograde business means the universe keeps dumping more and more shit on me and also my family. Because I knew at least one person would learn about my Covid diagnosis and think they dodged a bullet rather than being genuinely concerned about my welfare.
But then, well, let me back up for a second.
I’ve never met Ben, and know nothing about him.
A month or two ago, an old boyfriend, the one with the ska record label, texted me from Chicago. The gist of it was "Hey, this guy Ben in Utah has helped me and my business out a lot. He needs a place to stay Wednesday night and then a ride from DC to the music festival, could you help me help him?"
My answer, once he assured me there was no risk to my personal safety, was "of course." Because this is what you do in underground music scenes. You ask and offer as needed, paying it forward, and along the way you make new friends. In the future, when you’re left in the lurch somewhere, chances are there’s a ska or punk or scooter person nearby who is more than happy to step up, expecting nothing in return. I know it sounds corny, and maybe even like the start of a horror movie. But for the most part, you’re dealing with good people with good intentions.
So when this morning’s home test told me I had Covid again, I called Ben, who was in FL by that point on a red-eye layover. Told him I was paying for his hotel room, because I committed to this, and if I can’t have a good time this week, I was gonna make damn sure someone else did. When the hotel tried to bill his credit card, I called the front desk: "Hi, no, this needs to be on my card. I have Covid and a raging fever, but I will happily come down there in person to sort this out. You’ve got a mask, right?"
We compromised. They sent me a link where I could type in my credit card info.
When I texted Ben that it was all settled, and told him where to go get decent tacos, he texted back: "Thank you. You're awesome. Wish we were hanging out. I brought these for you. Gonna have to mail them.” That’s the photo above.
I smiled so hard through my Covid fever.
Because it was sweet, but also because a friend who just had serious surgery collects rubber ducks. I’ve been too sick to even send her a get-well card. Soon I will have just the thing(s) to send her. I wish I could think of good names for them.
So I guess the point of this story is that even when things REALLY SUCK, if you still do what you can to make someone else's life a bit easier, it might come back to you in the weirdest small-world way possible, an unexpected silver (yellow?) lining to make you smile.
Links
An old piece about mercury retrograde, which means, I hope, that I will wake up ass-early Friday morning, test negative, and be able to drive down to Hampton in time to see a few bands. Double-masked. (Refinery 29)
A reply-all apocalypse in the Senate. (Washingtonian)
The poem inside this edition of The Small Bow. (I looked for it elsewhere but couldn't find a link.) (Small Bow)
Calling this gnocchi thing a "recipe" is a stretch, but it was quite good. (NYT)
Why taking your shoes off before you go into your home doesn't really do much re: germs. (HuffPo)
Bob the Drag Queen's comedy special. (YouTube)
Bell peppers screaming in horror. (San and Useless)
Biblically accurate ska band. (Blue Sky, I think)