FOR THE FIRST TIME IN A YEAR, WE HAVE A REASON TO BE JEALOUS
For the first time in over a year, Kiwis have a reason to be jealous
We humans always want what we can’t have. Maybe it’s that girlfriend who dumped you, the chips on a friend’s plate or a house if you are under 40.
All I want is that delicious Pfizer vaccine. A cold hard Covid spike to the arm. Unfortunately, there won’t be any jabs for under 55 Kiwis till midAugust.
The US is swimming in vaccines; the UK is stabbing everyone 18 and over. Meanwhile, our under 35s won’t get anything till the end of October. For the first time in over a year, New Zealanders have a reason to be jealous of other countries.
How good was it when we had the stadium crowds, and no one else had anything? We felt great because overseas looked horrific in comparison. My beloved little sister was locked down in California. I enjoyed sending her pictures of me doing things she couldn’t. It made me feel good about myself.
Last week the LA Dodgers played to 52,000 screaming fans every night of their home series. She sent me a
The Pfizer jab won’t change much in your daily Kiwi life, but . . .we want it because it’s scarce and someone else has it.
text from the crowd — “newsflash, you’re not special anymore”.
Kiwi herd immunity will be fantastic, international travel tremendous, but the main reason we need the vaccine is to make people overseas think we’re cool again.
You can’t go near social media without a celebrity showing off. As a Kiwi with no vax access, I find that triggering.
Glamorous hotties like Dame Judi Dench, Sir Ian McKellen and Sir David Attenborough grace every corner of the internet. Everywhere you look, there’s someone sexy like Martha Stewart with a bandage on bare arms. Where’s my jab?
I get that it’s different here. These celebrities are dangerously old and live in places ravaged by Covid. I understand they are posting to encourage others in their countries to get the vax. But what good is that to us here in New Zealand? We won’t be getting stuck with a needle for months, no matter how good Camilla Parker Bowles looks doing it.
Fomo (the fear of missing out) is a powerful emotion. It’s why New Zealanders don’t leave the pub and go home to their families, end up at dinner parties we know will be boring, and it’s why I went to quiz night last week even though I was shagged. Kiwi Covid Fomo is creating a powerful desire for that sexy Pfizer.
I’m talking about having dreams. And all that starts right here. If you don’t have dreams, you don’t have anything — Dennis Quaid, The Rookie, 2002.
The jab tastes like Pina Colada in my dreams. I imagine myself poolside
Listen to Matt Heath on the Radio Hauraki Breakfast. in a Speedo. A beautiful woman with a needle on a silver platter arrives. She smiles, bends down and blasts the delicious vax into my veins. So sweet, so good.
Then reality strikes. I don’t have access to the vax. I also don’t have taste buds on my shoulders. It’s that old devil Fomo again. New Zealand is missing out on something the cool kids have, which makes us want it all the more.
We have been lucky in beautiful Aotearoa. There’s barely a sniff of Covid in the country. So why does the average non-border worker even want the vax?
We desire a lot of things we don’t need. Why did 1000 people, including myself, buy the Speight’s trucker cap Aaron Smith wore post-Highlander victory a month ago? Why did your boss replace his fancy car with a fancier one? Why is my Bumble profile buzzing 24/7? It’s supply and demand.
The Pfizer jab won’t change much in your daily Kiwi life, but we want it for more than health reasons. We want it because it’s scarce and someone else has it.
There are political benefits to craving the shot. Anti-vaxxers don’t annoy me any more. If someone in this brave land of Sir Ed is too chicken to take the Pfizer, then sweet as. I’ll have their shots too.
Most Kiwis won’t be getting their Covid jabs for many weeks to come. That’s okay. New Zealanders are resilient. I will wait patiently, staring longingly at the rest of the Western World as they get jabbed.
Either that or I’ll put on a grey wig and bum rush the nearest vaccination centre. Yum! 6am-9am weekdays.