Being Richard Nixon

(Originally published August 25, 2005 in wysiwyg. Reprinted with permission from the guy in the mugshot.)


"I am NOT a crook!"

I was a mere lad of eight when President Richard Nixon uttered the famous phrase to reporters in 1973 while denying his involvement in the Watergate scandal. As presidential soundbites go, that one ranks right up there with "Read my lips: No new taxes!" and "I did not have sexual relations with that woman — Miss Lewinsky."

But more than three decades after Nixon's attempt at damage control, I now know how the late president felt. Well, except that I REALLY am not a crook.

Or at least I'm not a cook.

The (long) story begins on Monday with a trip to a local pharmacy to order a couple of bottles of Aromatic Spirits of Ammonia, a chemical or "medicine" that was commonly stocked in the drug store of yesteryear. In the old days, folks would mix a little Spirits of Ammonia with Coke as a home remedy for everything from upset stomachs and headaches to hangovers and menstrual cramps. (For the record, I've only suffered the first two.) We have better medicines these days, so the demand for Aromatic Spirits of Ammonia has decreased to the point that if you want it, usually the pharmacist has to order it for you.

Why my interest? Glad you asked. Some time ago I read a newspaper story about how the head trainer of a major league baseball team would soak cabbage leaves in a solution of ice water and ammonia spirits. The players would wear the cabbage leaves on their heads -- under their caps -- to help keep cool on the field, where temperatures can exceed 120 degrees during some day games. Online, I found references to "ammonia towels" used by college sports teams, high school marching bands, and even sports officials. Instead of cabbage leaves, you simply soak a towel in ice water and ammonia spirits then wipe yourself down with the cool towel during breaks in the action. They say it's refreshing, a sensation akin to a cold shower on a hot day.

So I want to try it. Why? It gets hot here in Oklahoma, and when you're outside in the heat, such a remedy might be helpful. Second, anyone who knows me at all would tell you that putting a cabbage leaf soaked in water and a smelly chemical on your head and under your cap has David Hartman written all over it. Why cabbage? Why not iceberg, or perhaps a big leaf of romaine lettuce? Beats me.

In case you're wondering, Aromatic Spirits of Ammonia essentially is smelling salts dissolved in alcohol and some other stuff. So yeah, it has an aromatic bouquet. I'm not sure exactly what the aromatic ammonia is supposed to do in the mixture, but I suspect it just gives the respiratory system the same "Hello!" the nervous system gets when you douse ice water on it.

So Tuesday, I strolled back into the local pharmacy to pick up my two bottles of Aromatic Spirits of Ammonia.

I got suspicious when the clerk -- who I think was the manager or owner -- asked me for my driver's license, which I'm not accustomed to having to show when I buy something with my Visa debit card. Then she wrote all my driver's license information on a preprinted sheet that was designed for pharmacists to report who buys pseudophedrine and how much they got. She wanted to know how I'm going to use it, etc. I resisted the urge to tell her it was none of her business, and explained the whole ammonia towel/cabbage leaf principle. She seemed skeptical. I asked her if in the future I could get a larger, perhaps cheaper per ounce bottle of it rather than the two, two-ounce bottles I got that day. Then she went from skeptical to snippy. Told me I wouldn't be getting any of the stuff from her in a larger quantity, and for that matter, I wouldn't be getting more from her anytime soon in any quantity at all.

As I was driving back to work, it hit me: she thinks I'm cooking meth. A 2004 Oklahoma State Law (House Bill 2176) now restricts the sale of all cold and allergy medications containing pseudophedrine, because it's the key ingredient in the manufacture of meth, and Oklahoma has the distinction of having more meth labs per capita than nearly any other state. We don't have many honest high-paying jobs here, so when people figure out they can turn about $50 worth of ingredients into a drug with a street value of about $1,500 in a matter of three or four hours, a lotta folks here become entrepreneurs. You can still buy pseudophedrine, a package or two at a time, but you have to sign for it, and the pharmacist has to report the sales -- including who's buying it -- to Big Brother.

Besides that restriction, law enforcement agencies have gone to great lengths to educate merchants about precursors -- ingredients used to make meth. Things like lithium batteries, wooden matches, drain cleaner, rubber tubing, etc. Be the poor schmuck who puts enough of those things in your shopping cart at any one time, and you might just get the chance to wear the shiny metal interlocking bracelets during your free ride to the police station. There, you'll enjoy a complete physical -- or at least a full cavity search -- compliments of the State of Oklahoma.

Another key ingredient in cooking meth is ANHYDROUS Ammonia -- a chemical farmers use in large quantities to fertilize crops. That particular chemical also is regulated, so the meth cooks have to steal it from farmers instead of buying it themselves. So my pharmacist, who I'm sure was well-intentioned, confused anhydrous ammonia with aromatic spirits of, and decided to do her civic duty to save society from my evil scheme. Except of course that it isn't her job to restrict me from buying something I'm legally entitled to buy. If she's gonna be a pharmacist, she ought to know the rules.

I Googled. I felt guilty afterward and wondered if I need to go forward in church on Sunday because of it. Seriously though, I Googled "aromatic spirits of ammonia" and "meth" and got all of four hits. None of them made any reference to spirits being used as an ingredient in meth. Google "anhydrous ammonia" and "meth," and you'll get more than 30,000 hits. Hmmm.

So now I'm indignant. Mine might be a face only a mother could love, but it's not the face of a drug dealer. But now, any time I go back into that pharmacy, I'm a drug dealer. It's about principle for me.

Reminds me of the time when I was a junior in high school and got a detention. I was late for class, and was running in the hall toward said class. A teacher, in his write-up to the principal, said that he told me to stop running; I refused, and therefore was "willfully disobedient." I've never been willfully disobedient in school in my life. The hall was crowded and noisy. I never heard anyone say "stop." You wanna write me up for running in the halls, fair enough. I did that. I'll serve that detention. Willful disobedience? Not a chance. So I didn't show for the detention. It was about principle. Later, the principal called me in after I passed on the detention and told me I had the choice of serving the detention or spending three days at home under suspension. Then it became a matter of where my parents would line up on the issue: with the principle, or with the principal? And what would the consequences at home be if that didn't go my way? But I digress.

So I reckon in the coming days I'll just march back into that pharmacy, educate the pharmacist on the law and clear my pretty good name. I might also insist she cross out the information she took off my driver's license from her log. If she won't, maybe I'll threaten litigation. Or just write a good story for the newspaper. When we're finshed, she'll be smarter and I'll still have a place to get more aromatic spirits of ammonia overnight whenever I decide I want or need more.

Of course, she could also kick me out of the store and tell me to take my business elsewhere. In that case, I'll find me another ammonia supplier, and she won't have David Hartman to kick around anymore!