What New Year's Eve is All About

Happy New Year!

Great, glad to get that formality out of the way.

It is this time of year, in this city, that makes me wonder why I don't live in a cabin near the middle of nowhere, Montana. They're all out there, the crazies, lurking about, searching for new hosts to infect.

Lucky me, I found myself, vulnerable, in Times Square this afternoon. My favorite place on earth!

Doctor's appointment. Nothing routine, nothing earthshaking or noteworthy. Good doc sent me to Rite Aid to pick up a prescription. Two blocks away. Quick and easy, right?

No. Not quite.

I should note, for all you non-New Yorkers, that it snowed throughout the day. And that ordinarily annoying throngs of tourists looking for a Starbucks became exponentially more annoying in our charming winter wonderland. They walked, five abreast at least, and because of the inclement weather, could not see in front of themselves, and because they could only orient themselves in relation to the M&M Store, found themselves disorganized, confused, discombobulated on 8th avenue and 49th street; their maps flew out of their gloved hands, under their Ugg'd feet.

Ugh is right.

All I wanted was my drug. All I got was a healthy dose of insanity.

Alongside 15 other irritable people, I stood near the back of the store, the pharmacy pick-up window/counter/corner. I leaned against a stack of 12-roll toilet paper packages and observed. My prescription wouldn't be ready immediately.

A large-ish white woman of 65, Roberta, shifted her weight between her stubby legs and cane. Next in line, and yes, Brenda, one of the pharmacists at the cashier asked for her name.

"Roberta Roberts. Yes, I called it in earlier today. Two hours ago. Yes, you should have it. Oh, it's not done? Why isn't it done? I called it in two hours ago or so. I was told it would be done. Wait a second, who did I talk to? I demand to talk to the person I spoke with."

Brenda said nothing. She rolled her eyes.

"What, you're just going to stand there? You're not going to do anything for me? How dare you. How dare you stand there and not find out who spoke to me." Her cane fell to the floor.

"Ma'am, you're going to have to talk to someone at the other window." Brenda. Done with this day 20 minutes ago.

"Where is the other window?"

Brenda gestured to the "Drop-off" window about 15 feet away. Roberta looked to the window, stumbled a bit over her cane (Who put this here! Who moved this!) and turned back to Brenda. No steps toward the window.

"I'm not moving. Whoever talked to me can come over here. I'm not going anywhere."

Meanwhile, Yessica, the other pharmacist with the dreaded task of confronting customers, tended to other patients. Matthew's prescription was ready.

"Sir, I'll take you over here" -- pointing to the register Roberta loomed before -- "just swipe your card here." Yessica meant business.

Matthew did his best to contort his body around Roberta's wide frame so that he could swipe his credit card and be on his way. Roberta didn't seem to care that he was ready to leave. It was as if her feet were cemented to the floor.

Somehow Matthew completed his transaction, though he may have pulled a muscle in the process. After he left, another pharmacist spoke to Roberta about her pills.

She told her a story about her health insurance, how she needed the pills today December 31, before something kicked in or kicked out, or erupted and spilled lava into Times Square. Wait, those are my thoughts.

"Yeah, you should have the blood pressure medication and the clonazepam. Clonazepam, I need my Clonazepam. Lately, I've been needing it more and more."

Clonazepam, I know what that is.

As if hearing my thoughts, Roberta called to the pharmacist, "Clonazepam is also known as Klonopin," because, obviously, they wouldn't have known what medication to give her. Oh, Clonazapam ... fancy birth control?

This lady NEEDS her Klonopin.

Brenda took the next customer, another contortionist, as Yessica picked up Roberta's prescription and directed her to the register next to the one she's been guarding for 20 minutes.

"The prescriptions come out to $13, ma'am." Patient but impatient, Yessica stared at Roberta, her white plastic "Happy New Year" top hat tipped slightly, reflecting flourescent light beams.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!!! I have this." Roberta unplucked a bottle of dishwasher detergent from the crook of her arm. She could have easily stole it, but Roberta and I are not the same person.

Yessica rang it up. "Your total is now $17."

"NO! NO! NO! You have to take it off! You shouldn't have done that! Why did you do that! I have a coupon." From the depths of her left coat pocket, Roberta extracted 900 scraps of paper.

Yessica called for a manager. Brenda stepped out for a drink or hard drugs.

Roberta found the coupon and gave it to her.

"You don't have to undo it now. You don't have to. Don't undo it."

Yessica canceled the manager request. The manager also stepped out for a drink or hard drugs apparently.

"Okay, ma'am, you're getting a little bit fiesty now. I don't know why you're acting that way. Just hold on a minute. You don't have to get so riled up. Your total is now $13.89."

Right, complete the transaction. Give her the damn pills!

"Wait wait wait!! You have to undo it. I can't pay this way. I can't. I can't pay with my card. I have a card, see, and I can't pay for the soap with it." Roberta held out her MasterCard.

"You can pay in cash, ma'am, for the soap."

"Oh." Five minutes passed as Roberta fished out $0.89 from her change purse.

"Thanks. Your total is now $12." As Yessica said this, she started to put the soap and pills in a Rite Aid bag.

"No! No! I need that to be double bagged and give me the pills." Stuffed them into the pocket of myriad curiousities.

Roberta couldn't figure out how to swipe the card, as if she had never been to a store in the past 5-10 years, as if she had never been to this very Rite Aid or harassed these very pharmacists ever before. Yessica swiped the card for her.

Finally, five hours later, Roberta left and we all felt the store's atmosphere deflate. Ahh. Sanity.

I hope you didn't run into Roberta before she took her Klonopin. Drink and take pills responsibly.