Once upon a time, in a world pre-COVID and pre having a baby, I used to go out at night all the time — on weeknights, on weekends, and walking along the streets of New York City past the hour of 6pm was pretty normal activity for me. Now that I work from home full time and also have a young child, going out at night is not really “normal” for me at this stage in my life. So when I was out and about on Tuesday night, it felt really good to be out and see how alive New York was, particularly around Sixth Avenue and Rockefeller Center, which on weekdays, has a good mix of both local workers, residents, as well as tourists.
What I was not expecting, however, was to be eaten alive by mosquitoes. While at my friend’s art exhibit and also walking along Sixth Avenue, I suddenly realized that parts of my arms and legs that were exposed started itching like crazy. And I am unfortunately a scratcher, even though I don’t want to be, so I just cannot help but scratch. So I came home to find that there were at least six bites all over my arms and legs from mosquitoes. I immediately applied tea tree oil to soothe the itching, but it didn’t help enough. Today, I looked down at my legs after my shower to see four massive red welts on my legs. This was very, very unattractive.
The funny thing is: no one really imagines mosquitoes flying all over a very densely populated urban area like New York City. Occasionally, you might get bitten while in Central Park during the summer or in someone’s backyard in Brooklyn, but right in the heart of Manhattan at Rockefeller Center — this is not the first thought you would have for where you would be most likely to get bitten by mosquitoes.
“What happened to your legs??” Chris exclaimed today, confused, looking down at my big fat welts.
“Mosquito bites from my night walk on Sixth Avenue,” I responded, sullenly.
“Haha, yellow fever!” He laughed back.