Ben Kaplan strings his mask around his ear as he steps into the hallway of Van Meter, a first-year residence hall at UMass. Turning the corner, he’s met by lines of closed doors with nametags he can’t put faces to.
He starts downstairs and hears the echo of his footsteps instead of the voices of his neighbors. This visit to the vending machine could well be the day’s only exercise.
Ben was still in high school when the pandemic hit and his world condensed into a virtual existence. With a slight build, wide eyes, and perpetual smile, he looks youthful and radiates exuberance.
A marketing and video production major and theater minor, Ben was looking forward to the traditional bustling social experience of residential college life. Instead, when he boots up Zoom for class, he sees his classmates’ and professor’s faces in Zoom boxes.
Theater, which had been the center of Ben’s social life, is one of the many casualties of COVID-19 social restrictions.
His mind wanders to the backstage of his high school’s auditorium, smiling at the memory of casual banter and inside jokes he shared with his crewmates.
“I love theater, but I feel like I do it because it’s such a fun activity to do with other people and connect with other people,” Ben said.
He said he thinks theater will be “one of the last things to come back because of how intimate it is, and in order to experience it, you have to be in a crowd.”
Someone is using the vending machine when Ben makes it to the basement lounge. Other students are spread across the lounge in small clusters. He recognizes some from the iMessage and Snapchat group chats that he participates in with others from his residential area.
“I’m probably in three or four Van Meter group chats,” Ben says. “Groups have definitely been a key part in staying social and staying connected, whether it’s like, ‘Hey, does anyone have a printer that I can borrow?’ or, ‘Hey, I’m going to Late Night [at the dining hall], does anyone want to come with me?’ I feel like that’s the only way you can connect with a bunch of people at a time without any risk.”
As Ben takes his bag of Fritos from the machine, excited yells from the pool table grab his attention. He walks over to scope out the scene.
“This kid next to me is running a pool tournament in our basement,” Ben says “It’s socially distanced, you text the person you’re up against —there’s a bracket on the whiteboard and you play the person, update the bracket and then you text the group chats, letting them know the pool table is open.”
One of the players sinks the cue ball into a corner pocket, letting loose an expletive. Ben laughs. He talks a little trash, earning an invitation to take on the winner.
“It’s actually been a nice way of meeting new people,” Ben says. “I’d never met the person that I was up against, so it was nice being able to have a conversation while we were playing pool.”
Ben feels lighter as he starts back up the staircase.