The Captain will only take Sudafed when he has the slightest sniffle and there is always a stray little red pill somewhere in his medicine drawer in our bathroom should you ever be over and feel congestion building. I was heading to the grocery store to pick up creamer to bring to work and so the Captain asked if I could pick up Sudafed for him. “Sure” I said. He immediately reminded me that it has to be the “real” Sudafed, not the weak ones that you can buy over the counter. “I know, I know …the one that the pharmacist has to hand you only after you give the secret knock on the counter like a speak easy.”

I was hoping this would be a quick store run but when I walked in I saw a line of 4 people waiting to see the pharmacist, so I thought I’d grab the 5 bottles of creamer that I needed first and surely the line would go down. I returned to the little pharmacy area to now see 6 people I would have to join in line, all waiting to see the keeper of drugs. Are there that many people sick around here? Is it because I live where too many older people live that our pharmacy is overcrowded? I bet there aren’t lines at the pharmacy in college towns.

As I was finally about to approach the counter I noticed even more people behind me. Luckily my needs were simple. I should be up and out in seconds! Until the pharmacist narrowed her eyes and said, “License please.” Shoot. I should have been prepared. Why is she needing my license? Is this to prove I can drive under the influence of Sudafed? Did she need my insurance card and registration too? I rummaged through my purse to find my wallet and then upon opening it, I sifted through all the old receipts that I should have thrown away. Why do I have a receipt for paintbrushes I bought at Walmart? Was I thinking my bookkeeper would need that? Why am I looking at this receipt? Now the people behind me are surely getting agitated. I finally pulled my license out and handed it to the officer…I mean pharmacist.

She starts logging it into her official pharmacy book, but pauses to ask, “Is this your current address?” It wasn’t. We moved 8 months ago. I told her that I did register the change with the DMV but they won’t give you a new license until the old one expires. I started to tell her that the DMV actually suggested I put a piece of tape on my license with my new address which I thought was not necessary…until right now, but she interrupted me and asked, “What is your new address?” My mind went blank. What WAS my new address? I was like the kid in kindergarten who’s mom didn’t fully prepare her by making her memorize her address and phone number in case she got lost.

“Umm, I think it’s 2946 Rampart Road.” Her eyes squinted again and I could feel my heart racing. I’m sure sweat beads were starting to form on my forehead. It was from the interrogation spotlight that was shining on my face. “Yes Rampart Road… here in Castle Rock.” RAMPART ROAD? I have never lived on Rampart Road…anywhere! Where did this come from? There isn’t a Rampart Road in my neighborhood. But now I had said it. Should I change my answer or do I just pray she isn’t checking with the postal service. Now the Post Master will be called in.

The people in line behind me surely were now trying to search on their iPads and extra large smartphones to see if they could pull up America’s Most Wanted and identify me. Im pretty sure I saw the pharmacist push a button under the counter that would bring the police. I’d better keep my ID out.

Just as I was about to blurt out, “I swear I am not making meth in my bathtub at home. It is a really large tub and surely I would need more than one box of Sudafed to make anything worth selling” the pharmacist handed me back my license and told me it was $6.89. I paid and then quickly left stuffing the Sudafed, the crinkled receipts, and my wallet all back into my purse, leaving the basket with creamer that I really needed, next to the pharmacy counter.

I got home and told the Captain that I was through living the life of a drug runner and I could never buy anything that was behind the counter … ever again!