I awoke with a dripping nose and a constant need to sneeze. My cubicle is surrounded by people with cute Chihuahua sneezes, but mine suggest the sputtering engine of a Boeing 747 after it's sucked up a goose.
The family had scheduled a Columbus Day weekend getaway to the sandy shores of Alabama, so I got through the day in high spirits.
I assumed the blowing and going was an acute attack of Northeast Mississippi goldenrod that would dissolve with the first Gulf breeze.
On Saturday, I woke up with a delightful balcony view of dolphins frolicking and feeding in some of the clearest water I've seen at any beach.
On top of that, my head felt like the inside of a 53-year-old cement truck.
A decongestant was in order. That would've been a tricky proposition back home because Mississippi made it illegal to buy traditionally over-the-counter medications containing pseudoephedrine without a prescription.
But I wasn't in Mississippi.
At a grocery store pharmacy, I requested the generic version of Allegra-D, and the lady behind the counter said, "Sure, let me see your driver's license."
If I lived in Missouri or Virginia or Hawaii or California or Maine or any other state - with the possible exception of Oregon - I could've bought Allegra-D that day.
According to an Alabama law that went into effect June 6, it's illegal for a pharmacy to sell pseudoephedrine, a precursor to methamphetamine, to a Mississippi resident.
A child molester from Montana could've bought it. A killer from Kansas would've had no trouble. An arsonist from Arizona could've found some relief for his stuffy head.
Osama bin Laden, were he alive, could've walked up to that counter, put his money down and taken his medicine home, where one assumes American heroes would put more bullets into him.
But if you have a stuffy head and a Mississippi license, you can't be trusted.
I did what any other sick person would do.
I called my mommy who's on semi-permanent vacation in Gulf Shores, Ala., and has a Georgia license. At the counter they told her she'd already bought her allotment of products containing pseudoephedrine.
I should've known she'd get flagged.
Mom straight-up makes the best meth on the Mississippi and Alabama Gulf Coast, and parts of the Florida Panhandle. It's amazing stuff if you like a little mellow with your hectic buzz. Her secret ingredient is love.
Mom doesn't really make meth. Her teeth are far too nice. But the Alabama law is real.
I'd like to thank meth dealers for that, as well as Mississippi and Alabama lawmakers, who make an extra helping of low-grade misery possible for Magnolia State residents. Bless your hearts.
M. Scott Morris is a Daily Journal feature writer. Contact him at (662) 678-1589 or scott.morris @journalinc.com.