Beware the flock of returning snowbirds

In other words, people who have spent the entire pandemic living in hot states run by spineless idiots, people who have been walking in and out of each other’s condos and eating with friends in restaurants, are going to want to come here and dwell among those of us who have already endured weeks of often heart-aching deprivation while following rules meant to advance the greater good.

Let’s do an unpleasant mental exercise.

Pick a date in the future. Let’s say April 30.

Imagine that Connecticut’s rate of infection and death rate have started to fall dramatically.

That’s not far-fetched, nor is it a certainty. Testing rates are so paltry and inconsistent that it’s difficult to compare one state to another, but Connecticut’s widespread shutdowns and commitment to social distancing will begin to work in its favor.

Other states are going to implode tragically. Florida may be the most agonizing to behold. Aging population. Weeks of spring breakers having chicken fights on the beach. Clueless governor.

Florida’s Ron DeSantis will not be remembered as the dumbest governor in America during this pandemic, but that’s only because his neighbor to the north, Gov. Brian Kemp, has apparently been outside the classroom clapping erasers for two months.

This week, Kemp ordered one of the later shutdowns in the nation, partly because he had just learned that asymptomatic people can transmit the virus.

It’s hard to wrap your brain around that kind of stupid. Anthony Fauci, the nation’s most visible coronavirus expert, confirmed asymptomatic transmission on Jan. 31. That is therefore the date when anyone passionately interested in this crisis would have known.

To be a governor and not grasp that idea for more than two months is not possible through the normal avenues of stupidity. It would be the kind of stupid you’d have to work at. The kind where, if Kemp had stood next to Stephen Hawking for a couple of hours, Hawking would have started to forget how the universe works.

The next time we have a pandemic, we need two kinds of testing. One for whether a person has the virus. The other for people in decision-making roles to see if they have any idea what’s happening. The latter will be a periodic pop quiz, and if you flunk it, you have to let somebody else take over.

Kemp ordered a shutdown for April 3, the same day DeSantis chose for Florida. Congratulations, boys. You beat Nebraska.

What makes Florida and Georgia’s tardiness unusual is that each state already has large infection clusters. As of this writing, Florida, one of the last states to close down, has the sixth highest number of cases, and Georgia has a strong chance of breaking into the top 10 by the time you read this.

Let me repeat my caveat: coronavirus testing in the United States is such an enduring fiasco that these numbers may be misleading in any number of directions.

This week, though, we did see a new and interesting set of numbers. The New York Times, using anonymized cellphone data, measured how much moving around people are doing on weekdays. There are two kinds of places where people are not reducing their movements.

The first: states that just don’t have a lot of cases yet. Minnesota, the Dakotas, Kansas, etc.

The second: states where local authorities have been slow to issue clear and comprehensive orders.

Like everything else, this data is not perfect. I, for instance, am an outlier. I’ve been working from home for three weeks, but I normally have a 3- to 5-minute commute. I’m actually driving more most days, mainly because I prefer to walk my dog on mostly deserted trails.

So let’s get back to that unpleasant mental exercise. You don’t have to be a genius to spot areas where the infection curve will ride upward well into May. This will happen where restaurants stayed full, where people kept going to work, where malls were open for business.

Later in this process, data scientists will mine social media and get a reliable picture of where people were photographed shaking hands or standing close together or having big birthday parties in late March or even early April. It’ll be the same places. Now we’re nearing the vaguely outlined period when people who ordinarily go to Florida and other warm places for the winter start heading back to New York, Connecticut and other comparable climes.

In other words, people who have spent the entire pandemic living in hot states run by spineless idiots, people who have been walking in and out of each other’s condos and eating with friends in restaurants, are going to want to come here and dwell among those of us who have already endured weeks of often heart-aching deprivation while following rules meant to advance the greater good.

It poses an interesting public policy question. What kinds of restrictions should be imposed? A 14day inflexible quarantine seems like a no-brainer, but how do you enforce that?

It poses a multitude of interesting social questions. That jackass who’s always grinding you on Facebook about how he’s on his power boat in South Carolina while you’re shoveling out your car? He’s ready to head on back “home” to Colchester or Orange or Westport now.

We’ve fought a good fight here in the Northeast. We’re going to live (or die) through a horrible April.

But we might be looking at “Pandemic 2: Return of the Snowbirds.”

Paul Tong / Paul Tong