The Wacky World Of Condom Purchasing

Going to a drug store to buy condoms always presents an opportunity for an uncomfortable encounter. Of course, it's not the 1950s anymore, and there's no shame in having sex for reasons other than procreation, but walking down aisles with a pack of Trojans in hand remains susceptible to a few unfavorable glares from (old) people. And thank goodness that the Studio City Rite-Aid keeps their supply WAAAY in the back of the store, completely opposite from the registers -- what would I do without y'all?

On this day, just in case, I picked up a bottle of Gatorade to strategically hold in front of the condom box, not so much because I'm trying to hide the fact that I'm buying condoms, but more so to avoid being "the guy" who's just buying condoms. Certainly, since I'm holding both things, it's debatable which one was of more primary importance -- avoiding becoming a father within a week of my 22nd birthday, or my thirst for Mango Electrico!

So I'm in the back of a rather lengthy line of people behind the only 2 open registers, looking, or at least feeling, cool and confident. Then a dude walks in talking on a cell phone, so of course his voice is elevated a few octaves for the moment. As he's about to cross my path, he puts his friend on the other end of the phone on hold, looks me in the eyes, points toward what I have in my hand, and, his voice still in "YOU'RE CRACKING UP" mode, begins to say to me...

"Hey, where'd you get..."

Time freezes for the moment. I feel like Zach Morris in Saved By The Bell in those scenes where he would freeze time to talk to the camera, and in the process fuck around with the people around him who were unable to move. If only that really were the case, because the dude who just ordered the ice cream cone would've totally got jacked! But anyways, the potential of this dude completely blowing my cover is pounding me in the head. If he finishes his question the way I'm presuming he will, then I might as well have walked through the store with the box taped to my forehead, or dropped my pants and started putting one on in the middle of the store, because either of those would have been less obvious than this guy asking me where to find condoms in the store.

"... that Gatorade?"

WHEW! My relief in hearing the end of his question was so overwhelming that I stumbled all over my response; fortunately, he was able to make sense out of "Back... against the wall... refrigerator". For next time, I'll be sure to get something much less desirable to cover up my condoms -- people won't get the wrong idea if I were to showcase a box of suppositories, will they?