The redder the county, the shorter the wait for the coronavirus vaccines.
Jen McGrew traveled over 30 miles north from Salt Lake City, Utah to the more-conservative ski town of Ogden to get her first shot of the two-dose Pfizer vaccine. It was the end of the day. No line. She walked in.
“I stopped to ask if there were any leftovers or ‘walk-in’ shots remaining, and within five minutes I was in front of an attendant who got my paperwork started,” McGrew told Salon in an email.
Nicole Karlis details:
McGrew’s story highlights a peculiar trend playing out nationwide: one in which urban city-dwellers, struggling to find vaccines in their home cities, have found success getting vaccinated in neighboring counties that are more conservative and, in some cases, more rural.
That aligns with polling that shows that those who identify as Republicans are far less likely to get vaccinated. A PBS NewsHour/NPR/Marist poll from this month found that 30 percent of people surveyed stated that, if offered the COVID-19 vaccine, they would not take it. Of those who stated they would reject the vaccine, 49 percent were Republican men, as opposed to 6 percent of Democrat-identifying men. Moreover, 14 percent of Democrat women said they wouldn’t receive the vaccine if offered, compared to 34 percent of Republican women.
Since vaccines are distributed to counties based on population, that suggests that more right-leaning regions should have more of a surplus of vaccines than more liberal regions. And indeed, that seems to be borne out by which states are opening up vaccinations to all adult residents.
I can confirm that based on friends’ experiences here in WNC. The state still has its screening protocol and county services its waiting list. But outlets like Walgreens are more flexible.
Even so, wrangling an appointment in my blue county is challenging. Online signups here disappear fast. Calling Walgreens’ 800-number can help (attendants have access to a broader selection of sites than online) but may take a half-hour on hold. In more rural, redder areas an hour or more east, getting a Covid shot is not a big deal.
Friends scheduled appointments at a Walgreens 75 minutes east and arrived to find no one ahead or behind them in line. Pharmacists in fact fretted about a man who had missed his appointment three times already. They were reluctant to open a new vial only to see it go to waste if he failed to show. His shot could be yours for the effort.
On a more granular level, red counties within both blue and red states across the country appear to have a greater supply of vaccine, suggesting that vaccines are going unused and untaken in those areas. For example, a rural Missouri town on the border of Iowa was left with 1,500 unused doses after a mass vaccination drive.
In February, The Colorado Sun reported that rural counties were vaccinating people faster than urban ones; one southwest Colorado county had already run out of people to vaccinate. While this isn’t true of all rural areas — some have reportedly had messy vaccine roll-outs due to a lack of resources — it does appear to be a trend in some regions.
Experts, like those weighing in on the trend in Colorado, have chalked this up to population differences. Yet vaccine hesitancy may also play a role. As has been reported time and again, rural Americans appear to be less interested in the COVID-19 vaccine — even though many rural states have been hard-hit by the pandemic. In North Dakota, about 1 in 500 residents died from the coronavirus. Yet now, public health officials say the state’s biggest hurdle to get its population vaccinated is vaccine hesitancy.
A relation in Charlotte, N.C. drove just over the border to Rock Hill, South Carolina for hers. At the small-town quick-stop where I gassed up in S.C. on Saturday, maybe one in five customers entering the store wore masks. The rest are not likely competitors for vaccines.