4th St: wide open road |
I parked at the 5th and Mission garage and walked down 4th to the Moscone Center.
It was time for my second Pfizer injection.
There was no line at the entrance. I showed the guard my ID and vaccination card that was received three weeks ago.
March 29: empty compared to March 9th |
There were a dozen kiosks ready to register people, but only three were busy.
The lady checked the information on the ID, saw it agreed with the 2:30 appointment, and pointed politely to the escalator.
None of the stanchions used to manage crowds were necessary today. I walked straight to the main convention floor.
Line on March 9th |
I went right to an injection station, where for the third time I had to show my ID. Then I had to answer a raft of questions ("do you have COVID-19", "have you been sick recently", etc.) where "no" was clearly the right answer.
To save trouble I thought about lying when the technician asked if I had ever had an allergic reaction to an injection.
The golden ticket |
Whether it was because I sounded sincere or because I threw out the word "antigen" (in my ratty attire, she did look surprised) or because it was just normal protocol, I'll never know, but I got the shot and waited 15 minutes like everyone else.
It only cost a few bucks in gas and parking, some soreness in the arm and a mild headache, but now I have protection against the virus that has put the world on hold for a year.
Krispy Kreme: 1 free doughnut (WSJ) |
The push to get shots in arms has morphed into a kind of freebie frenzy, with businesses ranging from marijuana dispensaries to arcades promoting giveaways. The companies say the idea is to support the country’s vaccination program at a critical time during its rollout—and if a side effect is a boost for business, all the better.Is this a great country or what?
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