Ridge St. CVS: Pharmacy or Amusement Park?

If I stopped to think about it, I could come up with scores of good reasons why I like to hang out at the CVS on South Ridge Street. But I'm not the sharpest guy in the world. And if I choose to both 'stop' and 'think,' all I usually come up with is the first verse to "Louie Louie."

This store is a wonderful hangout, especially on beastly summer days. Sure, they sell pills, candy and toy handcuffs, all next to scandal magazines featuring pictures of Lindsay and Paris. With stories about their recent weekend romps involving pills, candy and toy handcuffs. So, yes, whoever stocks that store is a genius. Once you see this stuff being glamorized in magazines? It's impulse-buy city!

But mostly, I like to go to CVS to take my blood pressure. They have a machine in the back, which is free and fun. Is it accurate? Well, if it were a magazine, it would be US Weekly. You know the one that's been saying Brad and Angelina are definitely splitting up? For the past 5 years? The machine is like that: enjoyable, but a little off.

And if it's right? My numbers are so high I can't have any more salt until the next Transformers movie comes out. It'll raise my BP to stroke-level.

And if I see the movie? I'll die.

But a lot of people feel that way.

I love the blood pressure machine, for a number of reasons. Perhaps the single most important one is, it talks to me. Which is nice on a slow and lonely day.

Of course, this is after I slide my arm into that black sleeve, push the green button, feel the cuff tighten around my around and experience the panic-inducing Tonga Death Grip. But, as your arm begins to understand what it's like to be swallowed by a boa constrictor, a sensible lady's voice instructs you not to move, or you won't get a correct reading. Even if it will be indistinguishable from the numbers you get if you don't bat an eye.

But she says it all in such a reasonable, Margaret Thatcher-like voice, you just obey, without questioning. Which imparts to you both a sense of serenity and why England's economy is still in the toilet all these years later.

The challenge, of course, with the BP Machine, is to feel that black mamba snake gripping your arm and not freak out in a way that will will send your diastolic pressure somewhere into the region of a UFC contender who's all juiced up and ready for a grudge match.

The Voice also tells you, in her robotic way, that if you wish to stop the test at any time, just push the red button. Which is always a tempting alternative. Especially when that grip makes you panic and your reading is  suddenly 215 over 110.

Eventually, the test ends, the arm band loosens its grip and like any good competitor, you're ready to try again. 

It doesn't take much to make you want another go.

And a few more tries and you figure out how to improve your score.

You walk around CVS, take a look at the National Enquirer, buy some Gummi worms, breath deeply, run in place, take the test again. Usually, after 14 or 15 tries, you get a nice 120 over 80. Either that or the machine just goes Tilt! and shows you that score just to get rid of you. 

After all, it's fun taking your blood pressure, but you probably shouldn't sit there for two hours and just keep taking it. You really are abusing your privileges. Especially, if some rather sickly-looking seniors are sitting nearby, patiently waiting their turn.

And you may find out that even that nice robotic Voice won't be nice indefinitely, either. In fact, I think, the other day, as I took the ominous black sleeve off my arm and walked away, I heard the Voice say, 'Jeez, I thought he'd never leave.' 

But it's really hot these days. I might have just been imagining things.

More than likely? I'll be back tomorrow. To try it all again. And find out for sure.