I am a lightweight.

I always have been, and it seems like I always will be. Chemicals just hit me harder than most people. I’ve always know this. Medicines knock me out. Alcohol, as anyone who’s had to wake “1 glass of red wine Meghan” to send her home after she’s fallen asleep in the middle of a “group hang” knows, has a similar effect.

In fact, I didn’t even really drink at all until a couple of years ago! Meghan, if you weren’t drinking, what were you doing for fun in New York City? Well, LITERALLY, wandering around. Just going for walks. I love that! I still do that! Left to my own devices, on a nice day, I would wander for hours down random streets.

 

Cut to present day. You may know (because I haven’t exactly been quiet about it) that I have been sick for the past week. It’s pretty rough. I’ll survive, but I basically ran out of DayQuil & NyQuil and had to buy new medicine when I realized that I was still sick and that hey, maybe I should go see a doctor?

Long story short, my old favorite walk-in clinic in Manhattan stopped taking my insurance plan, so I had to find a new walk-in that accepts my insurance. I feel so guilty whining about my insurance plan, after I went without insurance for over a decade and only just recently became #privileged enough to see a doctor when I needed one. Let’s not forgot the many years we all just hoped that we’d get better because we couldn’t afford to see a doctor if God Forbid it WAS serious, touch wood, and just resigned ourselves to dying in poverty. And then CALL YOUR CONGRESSPERSON AND YELL AT THEM TO KEEP OBAMACARE IN PLACE! Can’t go back, won’t go back to the Dark Ages.

 

Meantime, I’m in sinus agony and coughing up a lung, so I take some of the new sinus medicine that I’ve bought. I’m starting to feel better…and then I start to feel gooooooood. I look up clinics online and find one on Graham Ave. “I know where that is!” I say to myself. “I can walk there!” So I grab my insurance card and an umbrella and awa-a-a-a-ay we go!

 

 

It’s about halfway there that I realize that I am high. As. FUCK. I’ve taken the Yellow Submarine to the Pineapple Express and I’m fuckin LOONEY. I’m loose. I’m LUCY IN THE SKY WITH picture myself in a boat on a river…. I’ve OUT OF MY MIND. Is it snowing? (it was not.) How long have I been walking for? I seem to have wandered out of a familiar area of town and into an area of town that is….not very nice? Well, there certainly are a lot of construction zones and the wind is blowing whole trash bags across the street like tumbleweeds. Crap! Now I’m high and paranoid!

 

I manage to stumble into the doctor’s office and fill out the front of a form. Then, I get scolded to fill out the back of the form after I attempt to turn it in with only the front part filled out. Now I’m in the waiting room, and I’m zoning in and out watching Rachel Ray. A man named George sits down next to me and asks me what color my eyes are. “I don’t know. I can’t see my eyes with my own eyes.” He starts taking off his shoes and he’s wearing two pairs of socks. At the same time. The nurse calls me back. “Good luck with your foot, George!”

 

Okay, I’m high. I’m really high. I’m pretty sure everyone can tell, at this point. Doctor diagnoses me with “bronchitis,” writes me a prescription for antibiotics, and sends me on my way.

and heeeeeeeere’s where I get myself into trouble.

 

I’m walking back home by way of the pharmacy to pick up said prescription, when that supa-high feeling takes over. The responsible voice in my head says “Keep walking down Graham Avenue, then walk over to the pharmacy.” But then I saw a sign that say Ainslie street. AINSLIE STREET! It was so cute! So I turned down it. In my defense, it WAS very cute. And the next block said “Manhattan Ave.” My pharmacy is on Manhattan Ave! This much be a shortcut!

 

 

MORGAN FREEMAN VOICEOVER: “It was not  a shortcut.”

 

Now, I’m walking down an unfamiliar street when I realize wow, I’ve been walking for a really long time. And at precisely THIS POINT, I realize I have no idea where I am.

 

 

I took a picture.

 

And then I saw forsythia bushes. So I took a picture.

 

 

And then I saw a water tower and thought of my boyfriend (He LOVES these!) and I took a picture.

 

 

Then, I saw it! My pharmacy! I had this weird tunnel feeling like I could see the red awning of my CVS from blocks away. I was soaring over the sidewalk, floating down Manhattan Avenue, feeling oh so significant. My prescription wasn’t ready yet, so I had a seat in the cloth waiting chairs along the wall, reading the labels in the vitamin aisle while enjoying OMC’s “How Bizarre” more than I ever did in middle school.

 

I manage to get myself home and make some food so I can take the first antibiotic pill, but honestly, I’m still buzzed hours later when I walk myself to the grocery store to buy more tissues (you don’t even wanna know how much name-brand Puffs cost in NYC, trust me, but it’s worth it to not have nosebleeds nonstop tmi imho) and end up purchasing the ingredients for tacos.

 

So what happened? I was a lightweight. I took a normal dose of pills and spent the entire day high off my ass. But there are worse things to do when you’re tripping on dextromethorphan than wander around Brooklyn on a weekday. And I’m pretty sure that’s how Dexy’s Midnight Runners got the idea for their band name? No? Next time, I’ll only take a half dose. Lesson learned.