more than the doctor ordered

monday was my annual physical, which, as my sometimes-employed friend commented, is just something that those of us who have health insurance do. so yeah. i went. (figured i should especially make sure to get in there before my insurance coverage changes in january.)

anyway. i've had this annoying rash on my right-hand fingers since before my mission, so since it's now been more than 6 years that it hasn't gone away of its own accord, i decided it was high-time to bring it to my doctor's attention. he looked at it, asked some questions, looked again, and said he'd give me something stronger than cortisone-10. he wrote the scrip and i was on my way.

down in the lobby there was a pharmacy, and as i breezed past it on the way to my car, i decided i would see what it's like to be like the rest of america and actually just go to the pharmacy located at my doctor's office. so i turned around and walked right in.

when i walked in, there was only one other "customer" there (don't know why i put quotes around that, but i did. live with it.) he was a kinda-scruffy-looking guy, mid- to late-twenties, with a worn-out black t-shirt from some band i'd never heard of, and a tattoo on his right bicep. he was waiting in the general area of the pharmacist window, so i stopped to evaluate the situation. he quickly acknowledged that he had already been helped. so i marched up to the window and gave the pharmacist my prescription. because i hadn't been to that pharmacy before, she needed to collect some information:

"address?"
i gave it to her.
"phone number?"
i gave it to her.
"date of birth?"
i gave it to her.
"date of birth?"
i hesitated ...

as i stood there looking at her, a panic quickly came over me: "i thought i gav--" "didn't i just ans--" i looked to my left, then to my right ... !! ... "have i entered some sort of time warp?!" i scratched my head. i looked up at the pharmacist. i looked down at the paper. but, but there it was: she had just written *down* my date of birth. so why was she asking me *again*? i looked up at her again.

it was then that the pharmacist let out a nervous giggle. oops: she'd asked that question twice.

the other customer piped in at this point, smoothing over the situation with a bit of flirtatious humor, "it's okay, she doesn't look like she's that old."

i turned around; i'd forgotten he was there. i probably looked pretty surprised when i turned around, but then i smiled before i turned back to the pharmacist who had a few more questions for me.

as i waited for my prescription, pharmacy boy made small talk. it was kinda fun, but kinda awkward, neither one of us knowing how long this conversation would last before the prescriptions were filled. he was nice.

after about 10 minutes, the pharmacist had his prescription ready. as he packed up his stuff, he seemed to be hesitating a bit. he walked over to me again to ask one more quick question as he fumbled through his wallet looking for his business card. he finally found it and handed it to me with a smooth, "we should do lunch sometime." to which i responded with an equally smooth, "okay."

as he headed toward the door, he had one final comment: "i'm not normally dressed like such a scruff, just when i ride my bike ..." and right then i noticed that his big leather jacket had a harley logo.

he rides a bike! swoon!