While waiting for the coffee to percolate one morning, I decided to read the warnings and side effects for the new medication I’m taking. I think we’ve become inured to these, simply because we’ve seen so many drug commercials rattling off may cause seizures, coma, and/or death like these are pesky little things that come with taking prescriptions that everyone has to deal with, no biggie. So I didn’t think twice as I read side effects may include nausea, abdominal pain, forgetfulness, skin rash, loss of bladder control, and hostility. Here’s what did perk my interest: a tiny warning on the bottle itself, proclaiming Do NOT operate a motor vehicle until you know how this medication will affect you.
That was new. Usually they just warn against operating heavy machinery. Would this new medication make me high or something? It wasn’t a painkiller, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to achieve this. I shrugged, took a pill, filled my cup of coffee, and went about my day.
The next morning, I’d completely forgotten about the unusual warning, and drove to work.
I’d been on the highway for approximately three miles when I decided to merge into the left lane. I put on my blinker, threw a glance over my left shoulder to check my blind spot just like they taught me to in driver’s ed all those years ago, and my goodness, the seat belt was all twisted up at the base of the retractor. What a mess! Safety first, though: I kept my eyes on the road the whole time as I unbuckled my seat belt, used one hand to feel along the strap and untwist it, found a piece of an old price tag that was stuck to it and peeled it off, then took ten minutes thinking about who might’ve committed the murders in the infamous West Memphis Three case of 1994. I mean, I really don’t think it was the three teenagers who were convicted and subsequently given an Alford plea who committed the crimes. All the evidence was circumstantial at best. It was up to me to solve it, right now, in the car. You know what? I haven’t seen a lot of snapping turtles this year. Is something affecting their population?
My car started beeping at me. Loudly. It seems my seat belt was off. What the . . . ? I never drive without a seat belt! What was going on? Turns out my car wasn’t lying: the seat belt really was unbuckled. I clicked it in place. Had I inadvertently hit it when contemplating those, uh, weird reptile thingies with the shells?
Once the beeping stopped, it took another minute for the incessant clicking noise to register. What was that? Dear lord, it was annoying. I was pretty sure I’d read about clicking beetles back in high school biology. Had they infested my vehicle? Wait—had clicking beetles unsnapped my seat belt? Were bugs trying to kill me?
It was right about then that I passed under an overpass. The car interior was dark for a moment, illuminated only by the green of my left turn signal.
When had that happened? My goodness, I was on a highway! Why on earth would I turn left? But you know . . . merging into the left lane wasn’t a bad idea. I thought. I wasn’t entirely sure, because I could no longer remember where, exactly, I was driving to.
Note to pharmaceutical companies: when listing side effects, please put forgetfulness much closer to the don’t drive a car section.
That was new. Usually they just warn against operating heavy machinery. Would this new medication make me high or something? It wasn’t a painkiller, so I wasn’t sure how it was going to achieve this. I shrugged, took a pill, filled my cup of coffee, and went about my day.
The next morning, I’d completely forgotten about the unusual warning, and drove to work.
I’d been on the highway for approximately three miles when I decided to merge into the left lane. I put on my blinker, threw a glance over my left shoulder to check my blind spot just like they taught me to in driver’s ed all those years ago, and my goodness, the seat belt was all twisted up at the base of the retractor. What a mess! Safety first, though: I kept my eyes on the road the whole time as I unbuckled my seat belt, used one hand to feel along the strap and untwist it, found a piece of an old price tag that was stuck to it and peeled it off, then took ten minutes thinking about who might’ve committed the murders in the infamous West Memphis Three case of 1994. I mean, I really don’t think it was the three teenagers who were convicted and subsequently given an Alford plea who committed the crimes. All the evidence was circumstantial at best. It was up to me to solve it, right now, in the car. You know what? I haven’t seen a lot of snapping turtles this year. Is something affecting their population?
My car started beeping at me. Loudly. It seems my seat belt was off. What the . . . ? I never drive without a seat belt! What was going on? Turns out my car wasn’t lying: the seat belt really was unbuckled. I clicked it in place. Had I inadvertently hit it when contemplating those, uh, weird reptile thingies with the shells?
Once the beeping stopped, it took another minute for the incessant clicking noise to register. What was that? Dear lord, it was annoying. I was pretty sure I’d read about clicking beetles back in high school biology. Had they infested my vehicle? Wait—had clicking beetles unsnapped my seat belt? Were bugs trying to kill me?
It was right about then that I passed under an overpass. The car interior was dark for a moment, illuminated only by the green of my left turn signal.
When had that happened? My goodness, I was on a highway! Why on earth would I turn left? But you know . . . merging into the left lane wasn’t a bad idea. I thought. I wasn’t entirely sure, because I could no longer remember where, exactly, I was driving to.
Note to pharmaceutical companies: when listing side effects, please put forgetfulness much closer to the don’t drive a car section.
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