My Corona Diary (Take XII): Live & Unmasked, At The Corona Corral (UPDATED, 9/13)

 <"Introducing...The Lone Unmasker"

The Reckoner>

We'd prepared our escape well. A week of brutally hot weather, with temperatures soaring into the upper 80s and even mid-90s had left The Squawker and I feeling cooped up and stir crazy, so we were more than ready to slip out this past weekend, and see if we could find a private space to do some walking, and move around.

Squawker and I had taken turns monitoring the forecast, waiting for the first day that barometric fever would finally break. We ended up waiting longer than we'd planned, but when we saw last Sunday's forecast (high of 80, real feel, 70s or below), we figured, time to take the plunge. 

We live right across the street from a small bar, one of many whose business has cratered due to COVID-19. However, its owner assured me that they were doing okay, when I got a takeout there a month or so ago. "The support has been there, and it's really great to see," he'd said.

I pulled out of our parking lot to turn left, past the bar, and head downtown. "Hey, what's that noise? Where's it coming from?" Squawker asked.

"Hmm, I'm not sure, because we just passed it." I said. "Let's go back and see what's going on there. Then we can get on with our business."

"Sounds good."

So I cut down a side street, looped back around, and cruised behind the bar -- the side facing away from our complex -- but nothing prepared us for the sight.

The sounds were coming from some rock 'n' roll cover band or other. About 30 to 40 people were watching, we figured, though only a few dared to dance. The crowd, such as it was, sat inside an area enclosed by metal poles, with plastic netting hung onto them. I'd seen it slowly taking shape all last week.

Nobody seemed to be wearing a mask, though. And nobody was following any social distancing rules. Well, wait, I take that back. The tables were spread apart, though not anywhere near six feet, from the looks of it. But the attendees sat, elbow to elbow, sipping their beers, or starting vacantly at the band.

"Are they crazy?" Squawker wondered out loud. "They must be kidding."

"Crazy, yeah, but desperate, too," I said, as we pulled away back. "They wouldn't be doing this if they could live without it."

Anyway, we drove around downtown, where the tourists have started trickling in, against all odds, and hung out for a little bit at the beach.

However, we stayed in our van. We saw so many people running around without masks, we figured...what's that hackneyed phrase? Discretion is the better part of valor, right? Something like that.

Tired of playing dodgeball with our fellow man, we wound our way back home. But I couldn't stop thinking of all those unmasked people on the way back. 

There's still plenty of foolishness making the rounds, though, judging by the media backlash that Great White weathered recently for playing a mask-free show in North Dakota, with no social distancing of any kind.

Ironies abounded, as always. Some initial reports didn't clarify which Great White showed up. North Dakota got the lineup led by original guitarist Mark Kendall, while former lead singer Jack Russell soldiers on as Jack Russell's Great White. Both men were onstage for the infamous Station nightclub fire of 2003, in Rhode Island, where a series of pyrotechnics set off by their crew caused soundproofing foam material to burn.

The resulting fire and stampede to escape caused the deaths of 100 people, and injured 230 more (115 seriously, as in, badly burned, disfigured and maimed for life). Yet it's Russell who told an Austrian magazine, "It’s, like, ‘I took my mask off and I got COVID.’ Well, what a big surprise that is. If you don’t wanna help yourself, help everybody else."

In contrast, the Kendall-led Great White simply opted for an official apology, brimming with the usual defensive bluster from people who've gotten caught out ("North Dakota’s government recommends masks be worn, however, we are not in a position to enforce the laws"). It reminded me of the BP Oil parody from South Park ("We're sorry...We're really, really sorry"). You can read it for yourself below, but the best sentence is the last one: "We are far from perfect."

If there's any ghosts haunting the Station site, yeah, I suspect they might heartily agree with that one, not to mention all those horribly mentally and physically scarred survivors. (Just stay away from the cemetery, though...in case one of those specters feels like kicking ass, and taking names.)

Meanwhile, as the COVID-19 death toll rockets onward and upward, with no vaccine in the pipeline, and no end in sight, I wonder what anybody's learned. 

This weekend, Squawker and I heard the music kicking up across the street once more, so I decided to check it out.

Once more, I drove past the fenced-in rear area, on my way to the gas station. Guess what? The crowd seemed smaller than last time, about 20-25 people, I think. But there they sat, right next to each other again, with no masks in sight. And if anything, the tables seemed they were packed tighter together than last time.

While our government continues to plod on, ranting about the need to push kids back into the classroom, even as great numbers of their friends and loved ones leave the planet (142,000 dead, and counting), as countless others ignore the precautions, driven by some vague notion of "sticking it to the Man," though we're the ones ending up in their crosshairs -- leaving Jack Russell to serve as the voice of reason.

Surreal? You bet. But this is where we are right now.

All this madness reminds me of the critical scene in Werner Herzog's Aguirre, The Wrath Of God (1972), as its titular conquistador -- racked by starvation and fever, yet still driven relentlessly by his own God-fueled delusions of grandeur -- rants, screams and shrieks from his raft, somewhere in the South American jungle, with only the monkeys left to keep him company: 

"I, the Wrath of God, will marry my own daughter, and with her I will found the purest dynasty the world has ever seen. Together, we shall rule this entire continent. We shall endure. I am the Wrath of God... who else is with me?"

As far as the last question goes, well... We'll find out soon enough. 

<Update: 9/13/20>

Well, guess what? The bar has continued its outdoor music and gatherings, virus or no virus, and the audiences have grown. Last Friday looked like the biggest crowd yet, approaching roughly 60-80 people, with cars filling up the nearby blood bank lot, even spilling out across the street, in the massive parking lot where the bowling alley now sits dead silent. 

So I guess the gambit is working, even if I wound up with a killer headache, because, of course, I live right across the street -- which means I get to hear echoes of the music, like it or not. I suspect it's the low frequency rumblings of the bass that are most responsible. Saturday proved different, as a steady drumming of rain essentially washed the music out, leaving the Squawker and I to gird up for the next weekend.

At least, we don't have to worry about the music lasting as long. The bar actually had a license that allowed the music until midnight, but the city commission yanked it a couple weeks ago, leaving 10:00 p.m. as the cutoff point. Judging by my drive-throughs past the site, I'm not seeing anymore signs of masking or social distancing than I did before, so I guess whatever concerns people may have, they're keeping them close to their chest.

Other places are grappling with bigger problems, like Spain, whose police have kept busy with breaking up illegal gatherings, as you'll see from the new link below. Relevant examples include 73 people getting caught and fined for partying in an illegal basement sauna in Madrid, and 160 caught enjoying rave music in a warehouse, in Barcelona.

The country's highly interactive culture has something to do with these issues, of course ("Almost nothing can be celebrated in Spain unless it is in a large group," as a public health professor states in the story). Unfortunately, the populace's restive spirit seems to be spiking new cases (25 percent among people aged 15-29). 

If nothing else, the pandemic proves how much of a social animal we are, as the cliche goes, and how important that need becomes, no matter how annoying or aggravating we make each other. However, as Spain's example -- or, for that matter, the fallout from Great White's maskless gig -- demonstrates, it only takes one domino to send the whole stack tumbling down. So it goes, at any rate, until the long-promised vaccine arrives. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Browse All You Wish...

Just Keep Your Social Distance, Eh?)

BBC: Coronavirus: 
Why Is There A US Backlash To Masks?:
https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-52540015

The Huffington Post

The Psychology Behind
Why Some People Refuse To Wear Face Masks:
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/psychology-why-people-refuse-wear-face-masks_l_5efb723cc5b6ca970915bc53

Variety: Packed, Maskless Great White Show
Reminds Social Media Of Band's Tragic Concert Past:
https://variety.com/2020/music/news/great-white-plays-packed-concert-no-social-distancing-1234704249/

Yahoo News: Spain Can't Stop Partying...
https://www.yahoo.com/news/spain-t-stop-partying-night-131157338.html

<"It's Raining Excuses

(COVID's Comet)"
The Reckoner>