Don’t be mad at your abuela, Miami. Here’s how to deal with your COVID vaccine envy

You feel hot. Are you feverish? Your digital thermometer says no, but it’s got to be lying. You’re having trouble breathing — in fact, you’re panting, like a desperate, wounded animal or a Karen being ordered to put on her mask. You can feel your heart pounding like the bass line in a Pitbull song, and you haven’t even had your fourth shot of cafecito today.

Do you have COVID?

No. You do not have COVID (probably). What you have is a significant case of Vaccine Envy.

A virulent strain of this new and emotionally devastating disease is swirling through Miami, mostly at my house but also other places. It is not fatal, but it is a powerful enemy of mental health. It travels faster than the UK variant, infecting its victims instantaneously every time a new person posts a vaccine selfie on social media.

Don’t believe me? Check your DMs. Every time a cheery vaccine photo pops up on Instagram or WhatsApp or Twitter or Facebook, all your other friends immediately begin texting you, demanding to know how this happened when So-and-So is 39, perfectly healthy and last time you checked he didn’t have a degree in medicine or education or, frankly, anything (he went to FSU).

We eye The Vaccinated with suspicion, especially if they scored the coveted Doctor’s Note that granted them a sip of that magical Pfizer cocktail. We grow surly over friends suddenly boasting about a condition that pushed them ahead in the line. We doubt that co-worker truly qualified as dangerously obese even though we have no idea what she weighs or even what we weigh, as we have worn nothing but stretchy yoga pants for a year (we really aren’t eager to find out).

We’re even bitter about the debilitating Why Can’t I Be Old Too Variant, which flares with every sighting of happy 65-year-olds out in the world drinking Merlot in their sun hats and comfortable shoes. They’re carefree and joyous, visiting museums and going to Heat games, freed from the tyranny of jigsaw puzzles and Netflix.

But our time will come. So you must relax. You must! We will all be able to get vaccinated soon, maybe even in time to attend Ultra next year. Kidding! We are sure it will be much earlier, like Christmas.

After a brutal year of canceling vacations, developing a codependent relationship with sourdough starter and giving up on ever waxing our eyebrows again, we must cultivate positivity (preferably not in infection rates). There are reasons for hope. Things are finally moving along in Florida. Teachers are now able to get vaccinated. A large federal vaccination site just opened in North Miami. Navarro, Publix, Walmart and CVS are all vaccinating people! For all we know Coyo Taco is giving away vaccines with a free margarita, and if they are we will be first in line and also grab a couple of al pastor tacos.

[Note: Coyo Taco is not distributing vaccines. This is a missed opportunity, we believe. What say you, Flanigan’s?]

Of course, there are people in Miami who remain unaffected by this syndrome. You will find them at places like Carbone or Swan, overpaying for fancy spaghetti and partying like it’s 1999 (or 2019). Don’t let their antics bring you down. They are young and invincible, at least until Miami turns into Waterworld and they need scuba gear to reach their condo in Brickell.

We won’t be around to enjoy that but not because we got COVID. We’ll just be dead after a long, glorious, fruitful life, minus 2020. So hang in there. You’ll get a vaccine one day. Until then? Go have a talk with your sourdough starter.

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