Word spread like a prairie fire in August.
The first hint that there was a fresh supply in the county and someone was holding came when we were at Walgreens replacing toothbrushes – those on the rack in the bathroom had suffered an unfortunate mishap, due in part to the poor planning by an architect 80 years ago who decided that placement of the toothbrush holder over the toilet made sense.
Architects will have their own form of purgatory, and it involves having to live in the houses which they have designed, with doors that swing the wrong way, light switches placed so they are impossible to find in the dark, and outlets behind the only possible place to locate a couch in a room that are a mere six inches beyond where anyone with common sense would place them.
But I digress. We needed new toothbrushes.
We stopped by after dinner and overheard some buzz in the store as we shopped. It seemed they had H1N1 vaccine. You couldn’t be sure, though, and an inquiry to the young lady manning the front cash register proved to be less than informative. She was more interested in when to go take her break than actually answering questions about the availability of the shots.
I’m not sure that I can blame her, though. At 20, flu shots seemed much less important to me than break time, too.
Figuring it was just a rumor, we headed back to the house and stripped down to our “flop around and be comfortable clothes” to watch television.
What if it wasn’t just a rumor, though? Could we risk not checking it out?
A phone call back to Walgreens to talk to the pharmacy confirmed the chatter. They did, in fact, have the vaccine and would be dispensing to those in the defined categories until 10:00 that night.
It was 9:08 when we leapt into action.
First, we had to change back into something acceptable to go out in public, lest we end up on the drugstore equivalent of www.peopleofwalmart.com. A vintage and very comfortable Lynard Skynard T-shirt from 1973 was hardly going to fit the bill for “appropriate attire”, especially since it seemed to have spent some time as a piano dust rag during its life.
At the same time, messages started going out. Networks had been informally created for weeks to spread information about who was “holding”, or where you could get good “stuff”. Crystal Meth dealers got nothing on people intent on flu shots. Calls and messages went out, bringing people who would normally be in their pre-slumber torpor by that point in the evening wide awake and ready for action.
“Hon, I got the hottest tip in the County.”
“Really? Who got caught in bed with someone that shouldn’ta been there? Somebody die? That guy at the farmer’s market gonna have them big mums for $5.00 again?”
“No, nothin’ trashy like that. Walgreens has H1N1 flu shots. Haul your butt on down there NOW!”
But I’m halfway through a bottle of wine.”
“Good, just bring it along with another glass. I need a bump and will meet you in the parking lot.”
Thus people in various states of dress found themselves rushing to Walgreens to hit before the bewitching hour when the magic elixir would stop.
People were, for the most part cordial and well behaved. There was no pushing or shoving, no whacking with canes or tripping to get ahead. A very pregnant woman dragged in with her husband, haggard and quite obviously in the latter stages of their vigil much like Mary and Joseph on the donkey looking for rest and succor.
Chivalry is not completely dead in the South, and most everyone insisted that they take the front of the line although there was some shushing of those who dared murmur objections.
There was more eye as the young lady who was doing the intake asked, “Now which of the categories do you fit,” the vaccine being available only to those in one of five specified categories.
Honestly, the poor woman waddled like a duck who’d swallowed a basketball, and “pregnant females” was at the top of the list of qualifiers!
You learn a lot about the people in your community standing in a line like that. Those ugly Croc shoes are far more popular than one would think. Did you know they make a fleece lined version? More than one person has bedroom slippers that do not match. Throwing a sweatshirt on without thinking through the fact that in order to get a vaccination one must bare a shoulder seemed to lead to more than a bit of embarrassment.
Note to self – Momma’s admonition to always wear clean underwear has some merit. It is interesting that the people driving the fancy cars and living in the gated neighborhoods sometimes have the dingiest undies beneath those designer clothes!
It was like the line at the methadone clinic had suddenly transported itself to a retail outlet except the nurses in scrubs were on the receiving side of the counter rather than the dispensing one. Many, many texts were sent to lots of people about where to make a buy and the line continued to grow, the pharmacist on duty being unable to stab and push the syringes faster than the waves of people converged. The buzz in line was that the store manager had put an announcement on the marquis outside, drawing the public in off the street. The fact that word had gotten around was confirmed when those in line started getting messages from others about availability at this venue.
Soon our names were called. Proximity was our friend and we had the good fortune of being at the front of the line. I hadn’t been that excited over getting a shot since I was four and being prepped for kindergarten. There was a lot less anxiety and fewer tears this time, although in retrospect I regret getting it in the same arm that only yesterday got both a tetnus booster and a regular flu shot. I shoulda spread the love a bit to the other arm.
People left with that kind of relaxed look that addicts take on after they’ve had a fix. Although the vaccine carries no buzz, peace of mind is in itself a high to be appreciated.
The chaser from the wine bottle in the parking lot didn’t hurt any, either.
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