Yeah, so I'm not even sure what meth is, really, nor how one might use it, nor what it looks like. Drug addicted, I am not.
Congested, though, I certainly am. This week has been a huge struggle for me to stay afloat, with Christmas coming, because I've had the worst cold I can remember having. First it was just a bunch of congestion, and I tried my usual home remedies of Indian food and sleeping whenever possible, and right about the time I said "Man, I'd almost rather have a runny nose than all this pressure", the floodgates burst. Be careful what you wish for, is all I'm saying, because the past three nights have been a sleepless hell of pouring sinuses. My eyes are runny, for crying out loud! I've blown my nose so many times my face is chapped. Seriously, I'm now regularly applying Carmex to my nostrils.
I've been taking over the counter cold meds, with dubious results, and I've noticed that the decongestant in the medicine is Phenylephrine. Now, I'm not acquainted with this Phenylephrine, but I'm a big fan of his rival Pseudoephedrine, once found in Sudafed. (Hence the name, "Sudafed".) I finally found some meds last night that contained pseudoephedrine, and voila! A dry face! Blessed, blessed rest.
Off I went to the local pharmacy, where I encountered something I had not previously realized, as I rarely catch cold. Everything that used to contain pseudoephedrine is gone. Gone! Phenylephrine has usurped its place on every shelf. This is, apparently, because pseudoephedrine can be used to make meth. I'm typing those words, but seriously, I'm not even sure what that means. Like, are there meth recipes somewhere? Allmeth.com? I wouldn't know where to begin. I turned to the pharmacist. "Is sudafed just GONE," I asked, "or is it behind the counter with you?"
She deadpanned. "Gone. Nah, just kidding, it's back here, what do you want?"
I said I wanted some sort of cold remedy that contained pseudoephedrine. Sirens went off, and buzzers sounded. No, I'm exaggerating, but she did have to pull her boss, who is apparently a real truly live pharmacist, over to give me the stinkeye. "What are your symptoms?" the boss asked, skeptically.
I told her I had a runny nose, cough, and sore throat. She told me I didn't need pseudoephedrine. I begged to differ. She told me it'd make me worse. I told her I'd found some this morning, and it had made me better. She asked me which brand, and when I told her, told me that it didn't contain that particular drug. Since the label stated otherwise, I disagreed.
After about 10 minutes of this back and forth, she looked at me with dread and said "You know, if I sell you this you're going to have to..." (here, she paused dramatically, as if she were about to inform me I'd have to sell one of my children into slavery or something, which I'd gladly have done at that moment, if it would've but guaranteed me some pseudoephedrine) "...sign the book!"
I'm going to have to sign the book? Ooh, scary! Yeah, I'll sign the book. Heck, lady, I'll sign whatever you want me to sign. Your boobs, perhaps? Hand me a sharpie! Just give me the cold medicine!
I left the store, I'm happy to report, with the desired drugs in my hand. I am fully prepared for my visit from the meth police... I plan to offer them cookies and maybe some tea. I'll just be delighted to do that without having to blow my nose throughout their visit.