One of my early morning rituals is tooling into the 24 Hour Duane Reade to check out their creams. If you go at a normal hour, after 10, you are swarmed with little salesgirls with names like Mylanta and Shamoo rationing out the testers.
At 6:30 a.m. however, you could give yourself a full body facial, and no one cares.
As I’m making my way to the wrinkle and rejuvenating aisle, I hear a very deep voice say, “So Ma’am, let me ask you…have you had your flu shot yet?”
James Earl Jones, is that you? Maybe he’s strolling through creams too.
It’s a very tall man in the midst of stocking eye drops I didn’t see since he was kneeling on all fours looking like a display. I’m half asleep you need to remember, my coffee not even taking effect yet.
“Actually,” I say, always polite, “you know, I haven’t.”
Truth be told, I never get one. The whole idea of being shot up with the same germ I’m trying to avoid leaves this dyslectic woman more confused than ever. Yes, I do remember being inoculated for polio…but my mother was at the helm then. Left to my own devices, I might have been in Warm Springs, Georgia right next to FDR.
“Well, don’t you think you should?” he says to me with serious concern. This is when I’m supposed to ask if he’s single, and I would have, if he wasn’t 65 putting himself through school.
I thought back to two months ago when I was hit with a terrible virus that just wouldn’t quit. Was that considered the flu?
I know God speaks through other people, especially those you don’t expect.
So after buying some Visine to give him my total support, I made the decision to have my first flu shot.
Not at Duane Reade for 8.95 plus bonus points mind you…
but somewhere that has a nice reception room with magazines and a water-cooler.