So like many of us, I’ve been casting around, signing up for the vaccine whenever it becomes available. I signed up with my county’s health department. I joined the wait list at my local pharmacy. When I heard that they were doing a huge event at Ford Field in Detroit through the combined efforts of FEMA, the State of Michigan, the Detroit Lions, local businesses and Meijer, I signed up for that, too.
About a week ago, my wife got the text. We filled out the form and confirmed her appointment for the 24th. I got my text a few days later and got an appointment for the 30th.
We went down together on the 24th. It was an excellent operation. Parking garages in the area had been commandeered and were free. Two ends of Ford Field had been opened (Gate A, across from the back of Comerica Park, and Gate G, on the opposite side.) We parked in the Gen Theater parking lot, the entrance from which I snapped the photo above.
Brush Street, which runs between the two stadiums, was blocked off to allow easy pedestrian access. Ford Field employees were outside to confirm that we had appointments and direct us in. More waited inside the doors to take out temperature and make sure we had masks.
We were then greeted by a young member of the Air Force in camouflage fatigues. Looking around, all indoor operations were being run by the Air Force. It was at this point that the historical nature of the situation really hit me, the feeling that we were in a crisis, that this football stadium had been turned into a medical facility, but that was a good thing because it meant that we were doing something about it.
We confirmed my wife’s reservation. They asked if I had an appointment, too. I said yes, but not until the 30th. He said, you might as well get it now, too. Hooray!
We then moved to the check-in station where they reviewed the medical statements we’d filled out online. A pharmacist was on hand to answer questions (yes, Flonase is a steroid but it’s a mild one and you can still get your shot.) The young soldier who helped us was from Puerto Rico. The civilians next to us were from the Dominican Republic and they shared some good-natured island rivalry with each other.
We moved on down the concourse, and were waved into one of about two dozen cubicles. There we were greeted by two Air Force medics, young Asian women, who re-confirmed our data, sat us in chairs, and gave us our first doses of Pfizer. Barely felt the needle. (I felt it later, since it goes into the muscle.) Then it was out and around the corner to the other side of the concourse to wait for 15 minutes. While we waited, another service member came by and chatted with us, making sure we were all right. My curiosity got the better of me and I went back and found an otherwise unoccupied medic and asked her a few questions about the procedures. She explained that they had a freezer system upstairs to keep the vaccine cold; a team of pharmacists were in charge of reconstituting is and drawing it into syringes, which were run down to the cubicles as needed and timed (they expired in three hours.)
When our waiting time was up, we were out the door. Without my lollygagging, the whole process, including wait time, would take all of 20 minutes.
I was impressed with how polite and genuinely concerned the Air Force personnel were. And, of course, if there’s one thing the military knows, it’s logistics. I’m looking forward to our second dose in a couple of weeks.
Hooray for big, efficient government. Hooray for a government that helps its people. Hooray for the diversity and strength of our military, on full display.
I’ll also say this- I’m pushing 50 now and wow, those Air Force folks sure looked like kids in camo to me. To which my even older friend replied, it’s not them who are too young, dude…
She left the second half unsaid, thankfully.
