Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls

by David Sedaris

At home I’d buy a bottle of Bufferin or ibuprofen and leave it at that, but when I’m on tour it’s packets I need—not for myself but to give as gifts to the people who’ve come to see me. Say it’s someone’s birthday or anniversary: I always offer the shampoos and conditioners taken from my hotels. But they provide only so many, and with a good-size crowd you’re empty-handed before you know it. Adults get something for special occasions, but the bulk of my presents go to teenagers, who qualify by virtue of their very existence. Real fun is right at their fingertips, but instead of taking bong hits in a stolen car or getting pregnant in a neighbor’s toolshed, they’ve come to a bookstore to hear a middle-aged man read out loud. And for that they deserve a token of my gratitude. The beauty of pain relievers is that they’re light and easy to pack. On top of that, they’re actually useful. “Here you are,” I’ll say to a sixteen-year-old. “Put this in your purse or glove compartment and think of me the next time you get a hangover.” In ’08, my gifts were pretty paltry. I’d bought eight dozen safety pins in Greece, and while they were foreign, they didn’t look much different from what you could get in the States. Ditto the German Band-Aids. So when Bob mentioned Costco I felt that all my problems had been solved.