SEARCHING NOW

Parking in Seattle is an eightstep process. Step one, find a place to park (gooood luuuuck). Step two, back into the angled parking space (who ever innovated that should be sentenced to the chokey). Step three, find a ticket dispenser that isnt menacingly encircled by a stinky mosaic of beggars/bums/junkies/runaways. This requires step four, crossing the street. Oh, plus youve forgotten your umbrella (there goes your hair, which you stopped worrying about toward the end of the last century, so thats a freebie). Step five, slide your credit card into the machine (small miracle if youve found one that hasnt been filled with epoxy by some misguided malcontent). Step six, return to your car (passing aforementioned putrid gauntlet, who heckle you because you didnt give them on the way thereoh, and did I mention, they all have shivering dogs). Step seven, affix the ticket to the proper window (is it passengerside for backin angle parking or driverside I would read the rules on the back of the sticker but cant because WHO THE HELL BRINGS READING GLASSES TO PARK THEIR CAR). Step eight, pray to the God you dont believe in that you have the mental wherewithal to remember what the hell it was you came downtown for in the first place. Already I wished a Chechen rebel would shoot me in the back. The compound pharmacy was cavernous, woodpaneled, and home to a few poorly stocked shelves. In the middle of it sat a brocade sofa, over which hung a Chihuly chandelier. The place made no sense at all, so already I was pretty much a wreck. I approached the counter. The was wearing one of those white headdresses that look like a nuns hat without the wings. I have no idea what ethnicity that made her, but there are tons of them here, especially working at rentalcar places. One of these days, I really need to ask. Bernadette Fox, I said. Her eyes met mine, then flashed mischief. One moment. She stepped onto a platform and whispered something to another pharmacist. He lowered his chin and examined me severely over his spectacles. Both he and the descended. Whatever was about to happen, they had decided beforehand it was a twoperson job. I received the prescription from your doctor, said the gentleman. It was written for seasickness, for a cruise youll be taking Were going to Antarctica over Christmas, I said, which requires crossing the Drake Passage. The statistics about the speed of the swirling water and the heights of the swells would shock you if I told you. But I cant, because Im hopeless when it comes to remembering numbers. Plus, Im trying really hard to block it out. I blame my daughter. Im only going because of her. Your prescription is for ABHR, he said. ABHR is basically Haldol with some Benadryl, Reglan, and Ativan thrown in. Sounds good to me. Haldol is an antipsychotic. He dropped his reading glasses into his shirt pocket. It was used in the Soviet prison system to break prisoners wills. And Im only discovering it now I said. This guy was proving resistant to my many charms, or else I am without charm, which is probably the case. He continued. It has some severe side effects, tardive dyskinesia being the worst. Tardive dyskinesia is characterized by uncontrollable grimacing, tongue protrusion, lip smackingâ€¦ Youve seen those people, the Flying Nun gravely added. She held a contorted hand up to her face, cocked her head, then shut one eye.

While your at it, search your own name and see every intimate detail about your personal life online.