I lived in New York City for over two years before I ever had a real picnic. Isn’t that odd? In a city with 28,000 acres of green space, it took me that long to spread out my blanket and enjoy the outdoors with friends. What have I been doing all this time?
Mostly, I’ve been indoors. Inside of bars and restaurants. Inside friends’ apartments. Most of the time I’ve spent outdoors has been either running or walking, both relatively solitary activities. I haven’t spent much time just sitting and enjoying my surroundings.
“Coronavirus has made everyone return to a simpler time.” Blah blah blah. I know that’s a tired line so I will avoid it. But man, do I love picnics. Sitting cross-legged on a blanket. Drinking beers, eating chips. It’s a lot of fun. You can hear what your friends are saying. It’s too bright to see the screen of your iPhone. You notice all of the strange people wandering through the monstrosity of a city you call home. There is no beginning or end; people just move in and out throughout the day.
I’ve always been a Debbie Downer when it comes to social events. I don’t like bars. I don’t like dark places, crowded places, or loud places. So it isn’t really surprising that I love picnics. Right now, though, other people are loving them as well. Day drinking on a rooftop somewhere is no longer the only acceptable form of outside time in the summer. The picnic is back.
Many of you will say that you’ve always been picnickers, and to that I say congratulations. I am jealous and I am happy to join you. To everyone else, I say this: please do not discard the picnic when everything returns to normal. Keep giving them a chance. Dark bars have had their run; the age of the picnic is upon us.