So I’ve just verified that the most terrifying place on planet Earth is the prescription drug waiting line at Wal-Mart on a Friday evening. I had to stand in line to buy Claritin-D because central Kentucky is smack dab in the center of 3 of the top 4 highest Fall allergy prone places in the world and I can’t breathe but I can’t buy over-the-counter over the counter anymore, I have to stand in line and let the pharmacy technician fill out a 40 page information sheet on me to ensure I don’t run home to make meth with my allergy medication.
So I’m cool with that. Meth is bad in Kentucky. Scary Bad. But I’m standing in line and there are three cash registers open and all are busy and this is a little no-place town in no-place Kentucky. Register number 1 has a dumpy middle-aged lady in much too short shorts and a much too thin summer tank with not nearly enough room in it for her lumpy awful hanging to her waist breasts. She is screaming at pharmacy tech 1 because Medicaid apparently doesn’t cover the full cost of her prescription and this woman is insisting it does. As if a pharmacy tech at Wal-Mart can do anything except scan the Medicaid card and scan the prescription and do whatever the hell the computer tells her to do.
Register number 2 is an old lady on a walker with at least 5 children and grandchildren crowded eagerly around her, obviously waiting to snatch away Grandma’s prescription pain killers the moment she gets them.
I get register number 3, and my pharmacy tech is this little ancient elf of a person but she’s entirely sweet and helpful and she types with one finger but she manages to enter all my personal and private information into the Wal-Mart computer and the state and federal drug monitoring system so I can take home 20 f**king allergy pills. But I had to tell her what I wanted first, and had stated “Please give me the largest box of Claritin-D you have” and I swear to God, three of the five children/grandchildren on register 2 popped their heads up and over in my direction like gophers, and started scanning me up and down with their bloodshot eyes and acne-scared faces, and the youngest one was visibly drooling at the prospect of cooking up some meth tonight. It was like zombies coming to life and smelling live meat in World War Z. I realized my life was in danger.
Pharmacy tech number 3 bags up my pills and hands them to me, and I shoot out of line sideways full tilt boogie and started dodging up and down aisles, trying to lose my tail of meth addicts. Happily, they were all jones-ing for a fix, so they didn’t keep up well and I made it out the door and to my car unscathed.
But you can damn sure bet my doors and windows are f**king locked tight tonight. But by god I’ll be able to breathe this weekend.