Julie-Ann Hutchinson and Kyle Burton, Baltimore-based health care professionals, went to extraordinary lengths to ensure their 40-person St. Louis wedding last September ran smoothly. They hired a “covid safety officer,” a nurse who, for $60 an hour for five hours, checked temperatures, asked guests how they felt, and handed out sanitizer and masks.

“My father came up with this idea, simply because he didn’t want family members to have to monitor the group and tell them to stand six feet apart,” Hutchinson said. “He wanted there to be an impartial neutral party.” That made sense to the couple but Hutchinson admits she thought, “He’s being ridiculous. Like what do I Google, ‘bouncer’? You can’t hire on TaskRabbit for this role. How do you even Google this?”

In the end, Burton’s aunt worked in the local military veterans hospital and knew someone who could help out, and the couple found themselves relieved of having to police their relatives. “I thought we were pandemic extra,” Hutchinson said (their wedding was profiled in the New York Times). “But it was a relief. She [the covid safety officer] would stare them down if they [guests] positioned themselves too closely.”

Neither Hutchinson nor Burton would change anything. “The conflict we faced was that we wanted to make the most of our time with our loved ones,” Burton says. “We had the option to delay the wedding entirely but we wanted to celebrate our love for each other and we wanted our family with us.”

Meet the covid concierge

The two couples—Niemer and Backstrom, Hutchinson and Burton—were lucky: They were able to use a connection to find a person on short notice at a relatively low cost to monitor their wedding. But for couples who don’t find such a monitor adequate nor have healthcare connections, “private covid concierge testing” is now a service you can buy in for your big day.

Asma Rashid’s boutique medical office in the Hamptons offered 35-minute turnaround testing for clients wanting to party last summer in the area’s beach houses. She’s already received requests for weddings this summer, including one she is helping a couple plan where vaccinations are explicitly required. “You’re not allowed to enter the party without proof of vaccination,” she says. “It’s not an honorary system.”

Rashid did not provide her rate, but similar services are popping up quickly online and aren’t cheap, ringing in at around $100 per test. One company, EventDoc, offers a deal for $1,500 testing for 20 guests in New York and Florida. Veritas, a Los Angeles-based startup, is gearing up for a busy wedding season outside its usual core clientele of film production crews who are required by law to be tested regularly. The company offers rapid tests for $75-$110 depending on the size of the group.

“We’ve been approved to do vaccinations by California,” says cofounder Kristopher Sims. The firm aims to eventually offer vaccinations at pre-wedding gatherings like bridal showers so guests are vaccinated in time for the wedding day—for a fee.

The demand for covid concierge services is not limited to weddings; summer graduations, bar/bat mitzvahs, quinceaneras, and any other gathering is fair game. But weddings are the most lucrative and dependable, spawning an emerging industry of rapid testing and verification services for those who can afford it. For a wedding list of even 10, those costs can quickly add up. 

Simple solutions

“That’s where the challenge is: Big tech is creating a solution for the rich but in reality, it’s the masses that need it,” Ramesh Raskar says. Raskar is a professor at MIT’s Media Lab and is in the process of launching PathCheck, a paper card with a QR code  that proves you are vaccinated. “It’s like a certificate,” Raskar says. When a person arrives at a venue, their QR code is checked along with a form of photo ID; if both check out, the person is permitted to enter.

On the surface, PathCheck ticks a lot of boxes: It’s pretty secure and, because Media Lab is a nonprofit, it is free—so far. And PathCheck is a paper product rather than a digital one, making it especially attractive for undocumented immigrants, the elderly, and those without internet access.

Tools like PathCheck are one possible route toward opening up safe, large gatherings to a person without much economic means in the United States. But it has drawbacks: PathCheck has to gain traction for people to trust and use it. And, as Veritas’s Sims and Capello note, there is currently no straightforward, national way to verify a person vaccinated in one state in another state. Even if there was—vaccine passports are far from an uncontroversial option. 

Weddings have been another example of how the pandemic has exacerbated inequity. The decision to have a safe wedding—any gathering, really—this year has been dictated by wealth and access. Some couples can afford to have a medical professional moonlight as a covid bouncer or send at-home PCR tests. Others can’t and have to make the difficult decision to either cut their guest list down and hope for the best—or just wait until the summer and hope enough people have been vaccinated.

That won’t change soon. Sure, President Joe Biden has said every American adult is eligible for a vaccine by April 19, but children will remain unvaccinated for some time, and the April 19 date does not account for the bottleneck of people wanting vaccines but unable to access them because of demand. While it might be safe to assume most people are fully vaccinated by June, it will be hard to actually know—unless, of course, you have the money to find out.

On the other hand, wedding season might be a boon for pushing those who are vaccine hesitant toward getting a vaccine simply because of FOMO. In Israel, life is mostly back to pre-pandemic normality after its massive vaccination campaign, helped along by incentivizing vaccine skeptics to get the vaccine so they can be part of social activities, according to a recent JAMA article. 

Similarly, Niemer and Backstrom said that the expected presence of two vulnerable people—Backstrom’s father, who has stage 4 lung cancer, and her 90-year-old grandmother—may have guilted people into getting the vaccine. “They [guests] knew the stakes,” Backstrom says. “Everyone was pretty much on their best behavior. We didn’t have guests who were stubborn and resistant.”

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