Friday, October 8, 2004

A foul wind has swept the area, gentle reader, and with it came a virus vile in its feature set. Fever, congestion, aches, and fatigue, this strain has it all, and many friends and acquaintances have fallen under its spell. Some claim it’s the flu, while others speak of its mysterious origins in hushed and reverent tones.

Until the CVS set up shop, Osco Drugs was the only apothecary in town. The grimy shelves, the cramped atmosphere, the poor lighting, and the long lines have all but become an Evanston institution, firmly establishing itself as a vital part of the Northwestern experience. I remember the overwhelming sense of orange. I remember the signs hanging above the cash registers, each one displaying the Osco guarantee. The guarantee read like a modern riff on a classic Bible verse: Where three or more a gathered, another cashier will appear in their midst. I remember these things. Hell, I remember these things from last week when I went there out of habit, and readers who know Evanston can empathize.

I haven’t suffered from asthma lately, so I certainly want this streak to continue unabated. Getting the flu would not help this goal, and the shortage of vaccines isn’t helping either. The alma mater, long a source of flu shots, has declared that we don’t need vaccines because we’re unilaterally healthy. This means, of course, that it’s off to Osco. Come to think of it, I also went there last year because of a shortage. My experience unfolded like so.

“Is…is that a banana?”

“No, sir, it’s a flu shot. Now lift up your sleeve.”

That’s an exaggeration. They gave me my shot, with a clean needle to boot. Have a safe and flu-free weekend.