The Fluffster offspring has coined an apropos term since resuming travel to his downtown office: bus bozos. What’s a bus bozo, you ask? Well, I’ve expanded my use of it beyond his original meaning: allow me to expound.
Bus bozos are folks we’ve all encountered in indoor spaces (not just buses!) over the past 18 months, who read from a different playbook than we do when it comes to face masks. Most of us have seen public service announcements and news items about the proper use of face masks, and how they protect us from COVID-19. Some of us have also seen Uncle Festus holding forth on Facebook, but we’re not buying that baloney.
I see these bozos in grocery stores and shopping malls as well as on transit. Every bus or Skytrain ride includes at least one. Their philosophy? As long as the face mask sits somewhere on their head or face, they’re following the guidelines. The most common location is that shown below.
Bozos, that’s not how this works. Masks aren’t chin straps or mouth guards. They’re meant to contain the aerosols and droplets you cough, sneeze, or breathe out. Those pretty much all come out of your nose and mouth (not oozing out of your chin).
Covering up only your mouth and chin won’t protect us from COVID-19. Nor does it mean that you won’t be asked to cover up. Though more likely, you’ll be permitted to go on your merry way, but with my evil thoughts hanging like a black cloud over your head.
Nobody likes face masks. To the essential workers forced to wear them all day, every day, I feel for you. I get that you need to pull the damn thing off your nose every once in a while just to breathe. Those of us lucky enough to stay home and live our lives mostly maskless must be understanding towards those who can’t.
But sadly, masks aren’t optional indoors and we’re stuck with them for now.
To the woman who got on my bus wearing a mask, only to sit down and pull it under her chin until it was time to get off the bus, This isn’t a damn restaurant, lady! (No, she wasn’t eating.)
To the young man with mask at half-mast, singing loudly on the Skytrain: I applaud your efforts to cheer everyone up, but you’d get a lot more ‘likes’ if you did it with a mask on.
To the grumpy old men in my grocery store, also with masks at half-mast: Ok, maybe you were forced to do the shopping this week, and you’re going to show your irritation by not putting that damn thing over your nose. It effectively makes me social distance from you, but it doesn’t protect either of us from those nasty aerosols...
Finally, to the unmasked, embarrassed man who said he’d forgotten his mask, asked was it ok if he got on the elevator anyway, and backed away when I said I’d prefer he wear one: Thank you, sir. You did the right thing.
I’m sure you all have your own versions of these encounters. The curious thing about mask wearing is that only a few vocal people refuse outright to wear one, although they, at least, have the courage of their convictions (wrong as they may be). All these half-mast bus bozos are just pretending to be outlaws.
To all the faux-outlaws: Buster, you ain’t Billy the Kid. He wore it over his nose.
Created by Lia Rahdiah from the Noun Project; created by Lia Rahdiah from the Noun Project; created by icon54 from Noun Project
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