About Black Swan Day

DESCRIPTION:

Black Swan Day marks the day the COVID-19 situation turned upside down in the United States over eight hours on March 13, 2020. An event is considered a "Black Swan Event" when it upends norms and changes how society behaves going forward. It is a sudden and disruptive event. March 13, 2020, certainly fits that description.

On March 13, 2020, the United States declared a National Emergency over the novel Coronavirus. On that day, the US had 2,183 cases with 48 deaths. Globally, the world had recorded 145,417 cases and 5,427 deaths. What we were about to engage as a global community, nobody knew.

Everyone has a story about that day, and this is mine.

FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH

At 7:30 AM, March 13, 2020, I arrived my office in Bala Cynwood (Bah-la Kin-wood), Pennsylvania, wary of the fact it was Friday the 13th, but looking forward to getting the day over so the weekend could start. I was doing direct marketing door-to-door, business-to-business for 100% commission. I hated it with a passion but needed income as I researched LEEP.

Every morning we held a ninety-minute "sales meeting," remedial training for the never-ending stream of recruits, 90% of whom never made it to 30 days, let alone a whole week. This day I lucked out, and I didn't have to take a trainee into the field.

SCHUYLKILL GHOSTS & BUBBLE GUM LIGHTS

At around 9:30 AM, I headed to my car, swung onto City Avenue, and headed toward Center City on the Schuylkill (Skoo-kull), interstate highway 76. It was the first indication that this would not be a typical day. There wasn't a single car moving westbound on the I-76, not one. Usually, the infamous highway is bumper-to-bumper at this time of day, actually any time of day. Where were the cars? I exited onto the PA1 northbound. On this road, another major highway, no cars were going southbound either. Two miles in, and still no cars on the other side. Drivers traveling my way were looking around as puzzled as me. A woman in hijab passed, catching my eye; she nodded and shook her head, confused. I grinned back half-heartedly and shrugged.

Suddenly, over the crest ahead, a flood of bubble gum lights and sirens spilled into all the southbound lanes, swelling from the emergency parking lane to the Jersey barrier dividing us. Dozens and dozens of police motorcycles rushed toward us, followed by police cars, fire engines, command cars, and ambulances. Each vehicle was fully animated, and all had sirens blaring. Confused, my car compatriots and I all eased over to the shoulder, trying to figure out what to do. The flood of rapidly moving vehicles was over a mile in length. Then I saw the hearse. It was a funeral procession for a first responder.

It is hard to explain the fear this engendered. My first thought was terrorism. Why else would roads be closed and hundreds of emergency vehicles of every flavor be traveling quickly toward Center City, lights flashing and sirens blaring? Fortunately, it was a show of respect, not my worst fear.

However, the day continued in its strangeness.

SHADES OF 1918

My first stop in North Philadelphia was an Irish pub with two locations in the city. The person I needed to speak with wasn't in, but his father was. I asked about their plans for Saint Patrick's Day the following week.

"I don't know," he confided. "My father lived through the 1918 pandemic, and we're not sure what this is yet."

The Spanish Flu. Over 12,000 Philadelphians lost their lives within six weeks during the 1918 second wave. It tore through the city after a Labor Day parade attended by an estimated 200,000 people.

THE SIGN

Wishing him luck for Saint Patrick's Day, I left and headed into the territory I planned to work that day, an area of light and heavy industrial manufacturing peppered with strip malls and various fast food joints. After about thirty minutes, I got my first contract, a multi-location retailer with a warehouse. Fabulous. After about forty minutes with them, I headed to a Starbucks. Parking, I exited the car, looking forward to sitting down. Instead, a sign at the door read: "Takeout only until further notice due to COVID-19."

What? Gingerly, I scanned the other storefronts in the strip mall. Most were closed, except for a Redwing shoe store and a Duncan Donuts. The closed locations all had similar signs.

Several strip malls later with closed signs, and I began to panic as I needed a restroom. The Taco Bell, cheesesteak place, and sub shop all refused customers inside. Nearly every location I could enter was empty, and the proprietors were worried and not friendly, which was highly unusual. Typically only nail salons and pawn shops were mean to me. Everyone was on edge. By 3 PM, I called it a day.

Until I entered my car, without access to a radio during the day I didn't know that all hell had broken loose. The White House had officially declared a National Emergency over the Coronavirus. Several outbreaks in the US were reported, and suddenly people were discussing shutting everything down. "They can't shut everything down," I thought, "can they?"

MONDAY, MARCH 16, 2020

That weekend, there was a stayed uneasiness. Monday morning's commute was better than Christmas week, with hardly any cars on the road. After our mind-numbing sales meeting, I headed to Philadelphia's Italian Market (my favorite place in the city) and checked in on existing clients until my 1:30 PM appointment with a culinary school in South Philly. As I left the school with a new contract, my phone started vibrating and screeching with an alarm I'd never heard. The text read, "The state of Pennsylvania will shut down at 5 PM today, March 16, 2020."

What the?!? No! I'm supposed to get my hair cut tomorrow! Little did I know it would be seven more months of mop head before that would happen.

Dumbfounded, I stood on the sunny street with budding trees staring at the message on my phone. It was 3 PM, exactly. Fortunately, I had made my commission for the week. Screw it! I didn't want to go home, and I didn't want to work. I wanted people, a communion of strangers, so I headed to a pub within stumbling distance of my house.

About 15 of us sat in the small 1930s era bar, drinking cheap wine and bottled beer, tipping the bartender liberally, and discussing events with trepidation. The owner wandered in around 4 PM and informed us that the bar and most other businesses would indefinitely close at 5 PM. We watched the news on the tele and tried to make light of this new reality. At 4:55 PM, a final toast before one-by-one, we spilled out the door and made our way home. It was the end of an era and the beginning of what would become two and a half rather surreal years for everyone.

________________

As of today, January 19, 2023, 672,364,867 cases of COVID-19 have been reported globally. Six million, seven hundred thirty-seven thousand, four hundred seven people have died, and the US stands at 103,708,163 cases with 1,127,080 deaths, the highest in the world.

I don't think I'm a fan of black swans anymore.