As concern over the Coronavirus escalated, I called in a prescription refill on lotion for my daughter’s acne-prone skin. If the world were about to implode, might as well go out with clear skin.
“Did you have any other prescriptions to pick up?” the store pharmacist asked me hours later, as she set down the bag with the lotion.
“Yes, I also have a prescription for toilet paper.”
“We don’t have that here or anywhere in the store.”
“I know, I was just joking.”
I had been so proud of how deadpan I had played this, because I’m not good at keeping a straight face. But clearly I had been too deadpan.
“I know you were kidding, sweetie.”
Oh. I hadn’t been too deadpan. I had been too not funny.
Still, the pharmacist smiles because she understands what I was going for.
“I know,” she says, “aren’t people just acting so crazy?”
Yes!
But, in my opinion, any hysteria-driven hoarding here on the Kenai Peninsula has been mild compared to what I saw on the news. Or heard from family and friends in other states.
It was only around the time Trump announced that Covid-19 was an official Pandemic that the buying out of toilet paper hit our state. Two big reasons are Alaska’s isolation, and it is the most sparsely populated state. But a third reason might be that there is a different mentality here.
The Last Frontier; Voted “Least Likely to Panic Over Toilet Paper.”
“Panic” just isn’t a popular look on the Last Frontier. There is too much macho pride. Also, and especially here in rural Alaska, most are trained to protect themselves from things like bear attacks, so running out of tissue likely ranks low on their list of “Crisis Situations.” On that note, if there were any item that could possibly cause “panic buying” here my guess is it wouldn’t be toilet paper, but guns.
Now, of course no one wants to be without toilet paper. That would suck. But out of all things needed for survival, why was toilet paper the first thing across the world to be hoarded? Or to come to blows over? At least in the stores that I went into that had no TP left, there were still napkins and kleenex. And if you’re stuck at home in quarantine you have a shower if it gets that bad.
Unless you live in a “dry cabin.” Which is a cabin without plumbing. And again, if that’s your lifestyle you’re a badass and resourceful enough to figure out something else to use in the outhouse.
Are Dry Cabins the Next Big Thing?
Tangent time: A “dry cabin” is a cabin without plumbing. People live in them year-round. We seem to have a fair amount of these here in Soldotna. I figured this out only after asking a local why there were so many combo shower/laundry businesses in town. I knew they were useful to the campers who came through in the summer, but I didn’t know they were also for people who were living out in the woods year round.
Work in Alaska is unpredictable and often seasonal, so dry cabins are a way for many to afford to living here. Or if it’s not a money thing, it is just a preference for living away from society and off the grid thing. Nobody tells you what to do out in the woods.
These cabins are affordable, and surrounded by nature…no “shared air.” I wouldn’t be surprised if they gained a bit more popularity in the aftermath of Covid-19 and its economic and emotional fall-out.
https://www.alaskatourjobs.com/blog/working-in-alaska/what-does-it-take-to-live-in-a-dry-cabin/
Is Toilet Paper a Symbol of Civility and Order?
Fighting over it isn’t. But perhaps there is a psychological and not just physical need for toilet paper.
I love to listen to the podcast, TBTL. In this episode the two hosts, Luke Burbank and Andrew Walsh, discuss the curious nature of toilet paper hysteria.
https://www.tbtl.net/episode/2020/03/06/3113-these-boots-were-made-for-watching-arty-movies
Luke throws out the idea that perhaps toilet paper is the one thing separates us from the animals. He is joking, but I think he might be on to something.
In “The Lord of the Flies,” the conch shell is what represents civility and order. Ultimately, a struggle between the boys over the conch shell leads to its destruction, and that moment of destruction marked the end of any civilized behavior and order left on the island. I know this because in my school-girl past a Cliff Notes version of the book spelled it all out for me.
Perhaps on some level people feel that toilet tissue represents some sort of security during an epidemic that is out of their control? And that without it we will all just become animals. Overuled by our inherently barbaric nature (probably got this from the same cliff note’s book)
When Covid-19 outbreak was officially declared a pandemic, we were nearing the end of our Spring Break in Hawaii. People in Alaska vacation in Hawaii. It’s a thing. It was a beautiful week on the Big Island, and it was business as usual in the town of Kona where we had rented an Airbnb. In the few days after the Pandemic announcement, people continued to fill the cafes, to head out on buffet cruises, and to sign up for the popular Manta Ray night dive. I believe that for Hawaii (like Alaska) being so isolated results in a delay in alarm. That being said, everyone was definitely aware something big was about to hit the fan.
Looking out to sea, I was just glad I wouldn’t be on a cruise ship when that happened (Now more than a week after Covid-19’s Pandemic status and there are still multiple cruise ships out at sea carrying thousands of passengers. They are being turned away from port after port. I just talked to a friend who has a sister on one of them. Due to a passenger testing positive everyone is confined to their cabin, and she and her husband have little kids. There are no words…)
In route home, I wondered what we had in stock at the house. And yes, the worry extended to toilet paper. I texted friends and they confirmed that stores were completely out of toilet paper. Before we left Alaska for our trip, I bought a modest six-pack. I hoped now that the cashier had appreciated my restraint, because after all, I did it all for her approval.
The other day, five days post Pandemic declaration, I was again at our store pharmacy when a man got in line behind me carrying a pack of…toilet paper. What!! It was like spotting a unicorn.
The man looked embarrassed to be caught clutching the one item that might one day become the icon for the shopping hysteria caused by the Coronavirus epidemic.
He looked at the pharmacist and me, and then he said almost defensively “there is still one other pack of toilet paper left.”
I wasn’t going to get there in time. And we all knew it.
The last time I attempted humor at this pharmacy it fell flat, but seeing the toilet paper had made me hopeful, and put me in a good mood. So, I tried again. I made an animated motion as if I were about to throw down my bag and make a run for the toilet paper aisle.
Maybe just because it broke some weird tension, but the man laughed, relieved. Even the pharmacist lady chuckled, a little. Still, success!
After I checked out at the pharmacy, and I actually did head over to the toilet paper aisle. I didn’t run though, or even hurry in a way that could draw attention (I’m more Alaskan than I realized). I was curious to see if perhaps that last pack of toilet paper was still there. It wasn’t.