The Inner Monologue

Ah, the American drugstore—a magical land where you can pick up your blood pressure medication, a 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke, a tube of lipstick, a pack of batteries, and a jumbo bag of Cheetos, all in one glorious, fluorescent-lit trip. It’s a marvel of convenience, really, if you ignore the fact that the actual pharmacy part is treated like an afterthought, shoved into the back corner like a shameful secret.

Step into a British chemist, or just about any pharmacy in the civilized world, and you’ll find something radical: a store that is actually about health. Nearly everything in there requires at least a brief chat with the pharmacist, because, shockingly, drugs—even the non-prescription kind—are serious business. Need some ibuprofen? Great, let’s make sure you’re not about to accidentally poison yourself. Fancy some cough syrup? Lovely, let’s confirm you’re not planning to mix it with a bottle of vodka and bad decisions.

But in America? Nah. Here, pharmacies are basically convenience stores with a side hustle in prescriptions. Walk into a CVS or Walgreens, and you’ll find:

• Aisle 1: Candy, chips, and enough soda to drown a small village.
• Aisle 2: Makeup, because nothing says “healthcare” like Maybelline.
• Aisle 3: Random household junk—phone chargers, greeting cards, and a sad-looking seasonal aisle currently stocked with Valentine’s Day leftovers.
• Aisle 4: Oh look, actual medicine—just grab whatever you want, no questions asked! Sleep aids, painkillers, enough antacids to survive Taco Tuesday—help yourself, champ.

And then, of course, there’s America’s very special third category of drugs: “behind the counter.” Not prescription, not quite OTC—just lurking in retail limbo. Want some Sudafed? Sure, but first you must endure the awkward ritual of asking the cashier (who absolutely does not care) while they scan your ID like you’re buying a handle of whiskey. It’s the perfect blend of bureaucracy and capitalism—no professional advice, just mild suspicion.

The rest of the world treats pharmaceuticals with the gravity they deserve. America? We treat them like impulse buys at a gas station. Because nothing says “healthcare system” like a pharmacy that also sells Slurpees.

God bless America—land of the free, home of the “Wait, why is the allergy medication next to the beef jerky?”