I’d been waiting over 3 years to finally attend my oldest friend’s wedding in Canada, which looked like it was going to take place last week. And it did, just without me.

Shoko and I hopped on a plane for Montreal on July 23rd, feeling just fine. We even wore our masks on the flights – something virtually nobody else did, I might add for ironic impact. We had two nice family dinners after we arrived in my hometown of Gaspé, and somehow avoided seeing Mike (the friend) or nearly anyone else who was invited to the wedding.

Of course we had Covid, either from the plane, or before leaving, and of course we gave it to everyone we ate with except my brother Fred and his wife, who’d already had it this year. We spent the rest of the trip holed up at my other brother’s place, where everyone dropped like flies, one by one. Miraculously, the wedding took place, although along with me and Shoko, there were cousins and uncles who couldn’t attend because of The Rona (unrelated to the French strain we brought).

Now Mike (on his ‘minimoon’) tells me that they are now positive, as well as at least one other member of the family. The moral of this tale is either ‘stay at home’, or ‘there’s nothing you can do about Covid’. Maybe there’s another one you can tell me about. At least we had some quality time with my brother and family. Now I’m looking for opera tickets, so I can wear the damn suit I bought.