Sydney, we did it! Let’s pat ourselves on our picnic-tanned backs for what we’ve accomplished in the last fifteen weeks. This lockdown has been harder than getting tickets for Hamilton which by the way is now incredibly easy if you are brave enough to sit in a theater with strangers.
We are not near COVID Zero, and may never have a donut day again. We certainly have not sought social distance, as we are now a city of secret speakeasies and smart donkeys who wear their masks on their chins if they spot a police officer. But we have vaccinated ourselves to the point where a careful reopening is not entirely foolhardy – a fantastic achievement in a few months.
Admittedly, we redirected precious Pfizer jabs from elsewhere and removed nearly expired jabs from more organized countries. It seems very Sydney to have approached our rollout of the vaccine like a chicken coop going after abandoned chips.
But we will soon be one of the most grafted places on the planet with more than 90 percent of the eligible population double-dosed. This outburst has reminded us that COVID is just as inevitable as an André Rieu trip and is just as likely to target the elderly.
Lockdown was tough. I spent mine while fighting a Frozen-loving three-year-old and recording a podcast that was constantly interrupted by thriving renditions of “Let It Go”. I feel shell-shocked or Elsa-shocked. But there is no way we would be in this enviable vaccination position without a lockdown.
Back in June, we were still fantasizing that Gladys’ contact tracking ninjas could sniff out any outbursts. In October, we know she could not even avert ICAC. Sydneysiders are bruised, bored, much smarter and full of antibodies, ready for the upcoming trials.
NSW is becoming Australia’s first post-lockdown state-open and free, yet facing potentially catastrophic pressure on our healthcare system. But we now know that there are no realistic alternatives. Being like Queensland never seemed less appealing.
We need our fresh mint fresh prizes to choose the right path between the pain of more restrictions and the nightmare if not enough, and it’s hard to trust him when, despite five years as treasurer, we know less about Dominic Perrottet than we do about Nicki Minaj’s cousin friend.