I remember that I was making an errand that day, and was nervous about the outbreak so I ordered a ride share. It arrived, and the driver quickly switched to Spanish to more fluidly discuss the coronavirus. It was an hour up to the art center, where I’d been warehousing the glass panes I was going to make into art pieces. They were going to have photographs of mine printed directly on their surface, using a new-ish inkjet technology called UV printing. I got along well with the driver, who must have been about my age and equally vigilant and ravenous for information. He dropped me off, and I went in to get the glass.
I remember that I was gifted ride share credit by some students of mine, who had especially enjoyed my photography classes at the art center. I felt ashamed to accept it, but I wasn’t making good money and had, finally, greatly appreciated the gesture. Because I had more credit to burn, I called the ride share again and by coincidence was matched with the same driver. He had opened a bag of fruit and was eating it, and waved to me smiling when he pulled around the corner.
I hefted a canvas tote, stretched taut with thick glass panes, three of them, that I was taking to the printer. We resumed our conversation. I’d been watching the virus closely for weeks, as it bloomed out of China into Europe, and the greater norther hemisphere. At the time I felt that my regurgitation of news headlines and secondhand reporting of anecdotes posted online could help my friends and family to understand the scope of what was to come. For example, I had read earlier that day that there was to be a press conference given by the US President and his menagerie of fools to announce a national state of emergency. It was to happen at 3:00 eastern time, and the comments I’d read about the event would make the pandemic “real” for Americans and spur panic at the supermarkets and drugstores. I relayed this information to the driver. He’d remarked on the tension and stress in the air, revealing itself in the increasingly gutsy choices being made by other drivers and pedestrians, but he only switched off his ride share app when he heard about the press conference. I told him we had about an hour left of relative sanity. He called his sister and told her, and quickly dropped me at the print shop. Mucha suerte, cuidate, we both said in unison.