You Might Just be a Crackhead out to Trade one for a $2 Rock

So, Friday I had to stop at the drug store twice on my way home, and when I was in the second one I learned an important lesson in Urban Living.

Lesson #1: You can tell what kind of neighborhood you're in by where they keep the condoms.

The first drug store I stopped in was in East Memphis. I went to pick up a few little things, and had forgotten that I needed condoms, but I had wandered through the isle with the condoms.

• I noticed them because a little girl (maybe 8 or so) was running her hands along all the items in the isle as she walked; regular condoms, giant condoms, vag infection fighters, vag creams, super-extra absorbent pads that show through your pants (any pants!) I thought it was pretty funny that these were innocuous little nothings to her. She was totally unaware that the necessary use of them, later in life, would become the bane of her existence. Okay, probably not the condoms, but definitely the other stuff.

But I digress; the point is, the condoms were just out there, ready for you to grab a box and get down to business all protected & ribbed for her pleasure. There was no Plexiglas lock box, just pure accessible condom joy!

Somehow during that stop I forgot that Boyfriend and I were out of condoms & would need some if we were going to party this weekend. So further down the road in a sketchier part of town I stopped at the same chain drug store. I wandered around and around. I found the isle where the condoms would be, but it was a prophylactic desert; not a latex love-glove to be seen. Finally after a few laps of the store I gave up and asked the elderly gentleman working the floor where I might find the condoms. Here is how our exchange went:

Me: "Excuse me sir, where might I find the condoms?"

Him: "Oh, those are behind the main register. We have to keep them there, otherwise they'll all be stolen."

Me: "Wow! I guess some people will go to any length to avoid getting pregnant."

Him: "Nope. The crack heads come in here and steal them. They can sell them to the prostitutes for a $2 rock!"

Me: "Um...huh, never thought of that."

Him: "Oh yeah! The new thing is air fresheners. They steal them and sell them on the corner so they can go buy a $2 rock."

Me: "Gee, thanks for the info sir. You learn something new every day."

The elderly are always more knowledgeable and wise; always. So I went and bought my condoms. Relegated to the same treatment that smokers get. And even though I'm a grown woman and am in a committed relationship it was still a little awkward and embarrassing to deliberate on the kind of condom I wanted in front of EVERYONE in line behind me.

So back to the Urban Living Lesson. Here is a breakdown: Good neighborhood: The condoms roam free in the isles like free range chickens; Okay neighborhood: The condoms are in the isle, but they are caged in a Plexiglas box and you must ask the pharmacy for assistance; Bad neighborhood: The condoms are behind the register, hidden like some sort of dangerous vice, because you might just be a crackhead out to trade one for a $2 rock.