After January 21, 2020, the date of the first confirmed case of the novel coronavirus in the United States, the general American population – save those few conspiracy theorists, scientists, and morally sound politicians – had never considered the idea that they’d be loosely confined to their homes because of a worldwide pandemic. Whenever a seismic, worldwide event occurs (wars, political revolution, totalitarian regimes taking over) we Americans are fortunate enough to witness those events unfold from afar without our daily routines disintegrating. No one was prepared for any and all places of public interaction to be closed. And certainly no one was ready for graduations to be cancelled, job opportunities to dwindle or for toilet paper to VANISH.
Instead, we have arrived at a time when every third word in a sentence is some iteration of the following (take a sip of that wine you’re holding every time you see a word used in the past 24 hours): Quarantine, social, distance, masks, touching, six feet, flatten, at-home gym, anxious, Trump, essential, bored, Fauci, WFH, recession, Wine Night, sourdough bread from scratch, Zoom, Tik-Tok.
While the number of confirmed cases of coronavirus is rising in this time of peril and political disorganization, and the words “recession,” hang over everyone’s heads, we have all found solace in a small, virtual slice of heaven: The Zoom Group Chat. Older millennials scoff at the idea that Gen Z’s and Boomers are just now engaging in a videoconferencing platform to keep up with their various pockets of friends. For the recent college students who were evicted from their campuses in the wake of the Rona, these video chats are used to break up the drudging monotony of pitiful virtual classrooms, news headlines that make you want to cry, and that at-home workout you were supposed to do today. Zoom is being used to continue work and education, but also for the pinnacle of socially distanced young people: Wine Night.
On a typical wine night, groups of friends are able to get together in-person, choosing either a movie or a TV show to watch (see Bachelor or Love Island for examples). There might be snacks such as popcorn or a haphazard cheese plate put together, but most importantly, several bottles of wine for the evening. However, in the virtual world, the rules have changed. Instead of gathering around something tangible for entertainment, groups of friends are forced to generate their own stimulating conversations for a couple of hours, with nothing to look at but each other’s faces (FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, LEARN HOW TO SWITCH TO GALLERY VIEW).
The first 2-3 people who get on the Zoom call will join exactly 30 seconds after the designated time. One of those people is the self-dubbed social chair. They’ve planned out tonight’s conversation as a series of “Truth or Dare,” “Most Likely To” or any other series of hypothetical questions that force people to scream answers at each other while the person with the slowest WiFi is forced to suffer as everyone else’s opinions are heard but their own. The second attendee is usually the quiet one – they stay on the Zoom chat to make sure their attendance is noted, but their only meaningful contribution is, “Aw guys, I miss you!” And finally, in Group 1 is the reminiscent drinker, who’s keeping a close watch on the clock before interjecting with a bubbly, “See a chug, send a chug! Rawr xD!” In this group we’ve found a trio of diligently quarantined folk, who have found things to keep them occupied, particularly a range of social media challenges and Tik Toks.
In the second wave of Zoom Wine Night we find our friends who will end up leaving the chat earliest, most likely to finish a game of beer-die with their mom and dad. Coincidentally enough, they’re also the one who thinks their mode of social distancing is superior to all others, and doesn’t understand that yes, there are some people who can’t help flatten that curve because they have families to feed and money to make. Here’s an unreliable sample quote: “I mean, I literally haven’t left my house all day. Like at all. Unless you count taking out the trash or going to the grocery store. But I totally get that you have to leave the house for some things. I just… I could never.” Also in this wave of attendees is the one who’s been participating in a “quarantined” pregame they are hosting and are too drunk to talk. For the majority of the conversation they introduce the group to random strangers, bumping elbows with all their bros instead of high-fiving, and popping back into the frame to ask if anyone else is drunk. Thankfully, the Admin in the group (Social Chair) has enacted their authority to put them on mute for the remainder of the call for the sake of all others.
There’s an interesting dynamic in all of these Wine Nights, and we’re sure that we’ve missed out on some of the better moments of these calls. Somewhere in the middle between the fact that you genuinely miss your friends that are hundreds of miles away and the hilarious joke that Zoom Chats are, there’s a humbling reality that these Wine Nights are only fun because they’re necessary. Before the ‘Ronies hit, group video chats were chic enough to be left to unreliable apps like House Party or god-forbid you try group Facetiming. (Don’t worry Oovoo hangouts, we could never forget about you, beautiful).
Now, the only stability we’re finding is in that perfect 3x3 grid of friendly faces sipping on a cheap bottle of Rosé or Sutter Home from hundreds of miles away. It’s not so often that groups can get everyone to participate in the same activity just for the sake of “catching up.” But we’ve established yet another easily stereotype-able space that’s keeping each one of us looking forward to the next week and the Chardonnay of choice. It’s a place of comfort and stability in the surrounding turbulence and the impending chaos that will continue as our nation’s healthcare and essential workers continue working their asses off to get us back to some semblance of normal. In any case, I’m getting ready for my own Wine Night (I have a nice Riesling picked out for the occasion), because even in these uncertain times, the small things and the right people still seem to pull us through. Xoxo
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