I Ask Myself

So sehr wir uns auch in „normale“Zeiten zurück wünschen – eine Party in Washington hat gezeigt, dass wir davon noch weit entfernt sind.

Amy Argetsinger reflects on the longing for normality

I could imagine making the same mistakes a Washington socialite named Ashley Bronczek made in the thick of the summer’s coronavirus crisis — but only up to a point.

Ashley, a rich and beautiful young woman who moves in the company of other rich and beautiful people, became national news when she hosted one of the few Washington parties of the season — a small but fancy outdoor gala to raise money for the Washington Ballet — and woke up sick the next day. It soon turned out that several of her guests had caught the virus at the party, most likely from her. But it doesn’t really matter who caught it from whom. The point is that she hosted a party at a time when we were supposed to be social distancing to thwart the pandemic’s spread.

Her status and wealth made her an easy target for mockery, and she was portrayed as a vapid social climber who cared more about showing off to her friends than health and safety. Yet the truth is that many of us struggled to cope with the needed isolation — and searched for safe ways to socialize.

The realization that the coronavirus mostly spreads indoors came as a huge relief. In Washington, when summer hit, we started to see groups of people congregate in public parks and front yards, often wearing masks. “Do you want to go for a distanced walk?” suggested a friend I hadn’t seen in months. “Are there any social-distanced happy hours near your house?” another asked. I said yes to the walk — it would be easy to keep my distance. I said no to the happy hour: I still wasn’t comfortable with going into the close spaces of the city’s restaurants, even when sitting outdoors. Instead, I invited my friends into our backyard.

So, I can understand what Ashley was thinking: She had a big, beautiful yard, with more than enough space for 30 people. Surely, they could all mingle safely, the gentle night breezes whisking away any germs they might have.

All Ashley wanted was to find a safe way to pretend that things were normal again. It probably did feel “normal” in her yard that evening — like it was in 2019 — and that was the mistake. That’s when you slip up. You’re glad to see your friends, and so you gradually move closer to one another. You laugh a little harder, you pick up your own wineglass and then maybe someone else’s accidentally. You lean in for a semi-hug and then joke that you shouldn’t — surely, it’s OK; surely, everyone here has been careful. But it’s the illusion of “careful” that can be the most dangerous thing of all. And trying to pretend that things are normal again is what will keep us from returning to normal for a long time.