On the Hunt

Feb. 7, 2021

The crisp maroon awnings of Butterfield Market wrap around the full length of its corner sidewalk location on the Upper East Side.

It’s a tidy store with flowers in the window, stations of prepared food, and plenty of artfully arranged sundry goods such as specialty “Aprés Ski” chocolates and Martha Stewart CBD wellness gummies.

On a bright Monday afternoon in February, the store is well-trafficked. Though directional stickers dot the floor like a trail of bread crumbs, the stream of shoppers doesn’t seem terribly worried about brushing elbows with their neighbors.

A brunette woman in a black jacket stands at the front of the store, taking a phone call by the stack of silver shopping baskets. “Yes, it’s S-O-S…” she says eagerly, beginning to spell out her last name. Unbeknownst to her, the flashlight on her phone is on, casting a bit of extra attention onto her conversation.

Also near the entrance, a short, older man in a leather jacket and pointy white shoes that are slightly scuffed inspects the baked goods on display. He wears a black mask that reads “Happy New Years 2021.” The mask is upside down. He considers, then reconsiders, a clear container of tiny rugelach.

A young woman outside speaks into her phone as she fixes her eyes ahead onto Madison Avenue. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, but my whole arm is hurting,” she says, seeming slightly annoyed.

In front of the store, two older women sit outside on a bench. Both are heavily layered, with masks, and earwarmers, and practical boots — the temperature, in the 20’s, would be bracing, save for moments like this, when the sun shines right on them.

One of the women has a slightly wan physique. She seems to not completely fill out her sky blue parka and she’s hunched over somewhat. Yet as she talks to her friend, she straightens her posture and becomes increasingly animated.

“So I can’t hear my phone, but I see the blinking light, and there’s a message — and it’s saying, if you want to get the flu vaccine, come up to 168th street, and call me back right away,” the wan woman says.

“It’s not that hard to get the flu vaccine,” her friend says.

“No, no it was for the COVID,” the woman emphatically responds. At that moment, a call comes in. “Pronto!” she answers.

“I just don’t know why there can’t just be one master site” she continues.

“Oh, it would go down in a second!” the friend says, her voice confident but muffled.

They talk more about navigating the online portals for vaccination appointments in a matter of fact manner, discussing how many hours they spent attempting to complete the questions before getting to the end and having to restart the process, trading insights on how to get over the hurdle of the last step.

“Well, I feel like a failure,” the friend without the appointment says semi-ironically, starting to twist her gloves in her hand.

The foot traffic on the street picks up: a man with fogged glasses strides by, a woman hurries past carrying a plant which nearly obscures her face.

The ladies continue to trade information. A friend got it done in White Plains. It’s possible.

“Well they were trying to direct me to Comstock or Plattsburgh! I thought, well I’ve always wanted to go to Northern New York in the middle of the winter!”

This got a rise out of her friend. “Yeah yeah, I just loved Niagara Falls soo much, I couldn’t wait to go back!”

They both laughed heartily, and the woman with the golden appointment began to kick her boots with a bit of nervous excitement.

“So you think I should go to Florida?” she asks, somewhat rheroticarlly, not quite waiting for her friend’s response. “We just have to take our chances. This morning they sent out the announcement..but you know, I never check my messages…”