She’s Back… and she’s Pissed…

Posted on November 29th, 2005 by Christine.
Categories: Pissed Off & Proud of It, True Story.

As if I weren?t pissed enough at Osama bin Laden for killing thousands of people in the 9/11 terrorist attacks, I hate the horse-faced turban-headed freak of nature every time I go to the airport and realize I?m going to spend the next forty minutes standing in line to go through security at which point I?m sure I?ll forget to either take off my shoes, remove my nail clippers from my cosmetic bag, or pull out my laptop and have to repack it just to be sure that I?m not a terrorist. I would pull the trigger on Osama myself just for creating that situation alone.

But now I?m pissed at someone else.

And no… surprisingly enough, it?s not Christopher.

Last month, I was in Nebraska for a few days and I realized on the plane going that, despite doing everything in my power to think positively, I was probably going to get sick from the woman sitting three inches from me who sneezed, coughed, and cleared her throat the entire flight.

Sure enough… by the following day, I was sick as a dog… I mean super sick. The kind of sick that makes the skin under your nose burn and peel off because your nose runs incessantly… the kind of sick that means you have to sit up in bed to get any sleep because the moment you lie down, you choke on the river of mucus that fills your entire head and then spills into your throat on its journey to your stomach… the kind of sick that makes you silently re-evaluate all your recent sins and promise to God in a silent mantra of prayers that you?ll never do them again if He?ll just make you well…

So… Day 1 of my virus-riddled body, I go to Walgreens despite the fact I?m boycotting them?which by the way, still has not seemed to worry the Walton greed-mongers or really even affect their bottom line?and get Cold Eeze. Natural… homeopathic… Christopher says his boss swears by them. They help for about 38 seconds and I?m ready to die again.

I go through the entire package, popping those fuckers like Mary Kate pops Phen-Phen and realize by nightfall, that if I don?t get something stronger, I?ll spend the next 12 hours wishing I were dead.

So I drive to Osco Drug (I don?t know the west coast equivalent of this chain, but it?s big… like Sav-On). And guess what… it?s before 8pm on a Friday night and the store is closed. Figures… after all… we?re talking about Nebraska here.

I go back to Walgreens. They?re open. Hallelujah. Maybe the greedy Walton bastards aren?t so bad after all…

I head to the back near the ominously dark pharmacy window and see an entire aisle of cold medicine. I frantically search for the good stuff… the stuff that will dry up my sinuses like the Sahara. ?Where the fuck is the Sudafed?? I mutter… and then I see it. Tons of Sudafed?Daytime, Nighttime, Cold & Sinus, Non-Drowsy, Multi-Symptom… whatever you need to put you out of your misery, Sudafed?s got you covered…

But, hrmmm… strange… these aren?t boxes of Sudafed. These are photos of boxes of Sudafed printed on little plastic cards. Figuring they?re worried about theft (with crime rates soaring out of control in the Nebraska flatlands), I grab up a couple plastic Sudafed cards and head to the check-out.

I hand them to the woman and pull out my wallet, just wanting to climb into my hotel bed, stuff myself with Sudafed, and wish it all away…

?Yeah…? she says in a regretful voice (but I don?t think it was sincere)… ?You can only get this from the pharmacy and the pharmacy?s closed.?

I look at her through watery, burning eyes, not quite getting it and say politely… ?Well, I need it, so can you have the manager go unlock the pharmacy and get me some??

?No…,? she sighs. ?Only the pharmacy manager has the key to the pharmacy…?

?So you?re saying I can?t get any Sudafed, even though I?m sick… I mean you sell it, but I can?t actually buy it.? Trying to remain calm and use my ?public? voice… ?Why is it in the pharmacy? It?s an over-the-counter drug????

?We?re not allowed to put it out anymore because it contains an ingredient used to make crystal meth.?

My poor, infected brain struggles to understand what the fuck she?s talking about. It has nothing to do with theft… it has to do with the production of crystal meth… HUH?

Then it all becomes clear. I can?t buy a box of Sudafed because some fucking degenerate drug dealer uses it to make methamphetamines… why can?t they just all blow themselves up? I think…

Right before I can make up a story to convey how pissed off I am about this situation… like spouting off that my dad is the CEO of the Sudafed Corporation and you?re going to jeopardize Walgreen?s account with every single American drug company if you don?t get your ass back there and find me a box of Sudafed… she comes up with a super helpful solution… ?You can go to the Walgreens on the northeast side of town… they have a 24 hour pharmacy.?

I stare at her… knowing its not her fault, but sort of wishing that she’d shrivel up and collapse into a pile of dust anyway.

?Jesus Christ.? I march to the back of the store and grab a box of NyQuil instead. I come back, toss it on the counter, and give the woman my credit card. By morning, the NyQuil were pretty much gone and I felt a little better… at least good enough to cancel my campaign to impose the death penalty on crystal meth suppliers so that us normal, non-addicts who really, really need these drugs can actually get them.

But it turns out that Nebraska isn?t the only state that?s mandating this. Thanks to the Senate passing the Combat Meth Act in September which makes anything with pseudophedrine subject to being moved behind the counter and unavailable during non-pharmacy hours, it looks like we better stock up on the good stuff during the day.

So that?s who I?m pissed at. These dregs of society with a fourth-grade education who decide to make a living by grinding up Sudafed in their little toy science labs so some other brand of degenerate can get continue to get high until they?re forced into state-funded methadone clinics at the expense of people who work, pay taxes, and just want some damn Sudafed when they get sick…

I?ve decided that if I ever meet one… one of these meth-making dickweeds… I?m going to demand that he give me a box of Sudafed. And if he doesn?t… well… lets just hope for his sake, the pharmacy is still open.

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