On April fifteenth, at 8:42 p.m., I had a drink. Not on Zoom. Not alone on my couch. Not outside, under a heat lamp. Nope. Inside, on a stool, at the actual, physical bar. For the first time in more than a year. To sit shoulder to shoulder with friends again, chatting with the bartender about esoteric spirits, hearing the laughter of strangers—it felt new and raw. Even with the masked staff and social distancing, the experience was unexpectedly life-affirming. All of a sudden, I felt like me again.