On Sept. 16, 2024, in the scenic Hudson Valley, my life was profoundly changed. To the untrained eye, I had a minor cough that would wake me every night, for months, from a deep slumber and render me unable to breathe. As any pre-med student or WebMD expert would corroborate, such an event would be considered small potatoes and certainly not merit concern. After numerous pleas and bribes from my roommates, I decided to “seek help” and obtained an “appointment” with Vassar College’s Health Services. During said “appointment” I made a confidential disclosure to a health professional that I occasionally had cough-like symptoms that would keep my roommates, several walls away, up all night. Instead of being told my roommates should mind their own business and that I looked super pretty that day, I was accused of having asthma and was presented with what can only be described as an inhaler.
I was shocked. Allegedly, asthma is genetic and since my father is guilty of asthma, in the court of medical opinion, my plea of innocence fell on deaf ears with strong lungs. I did what any sane person would do and requested a paternity test and a Punnett Square as evidence but was swiftly denied, as was my second, third and fourth appeal.
Dejected and struggling to breathe, I had no choice but to take a hit from my inhaler. Of all the hits I’ve taken in my life, this one hit the hardest. Frankly, I don’t know what they put in inhalers and I don’t want to; all I know is that shit is good.
I could feel the air going to my head. My first oxygenized thought was, “Who else knows about this?” Surely if the smokers and the vapers found out about the prospect of inhaling they would be forging doctor’s notes for every pharmacy in America. I was plagued with questions. After taking some more puffs from my inhaler, I felt like a more enlightened version of myself and I began running some numbers. Once I ran out of fingers to count on, I saw it; the true capital potential of inhaling. With a few minor shifts of a supply and demand curve, I had a real money-making opportunity on my hands.
I started small. I’d sit on benches in high traffic areas around campus inhaling and waiting for kids to come up to me and ask where I got my sick inhaler from. While I got a few “oohs” and “ahhs” from passersby, I had underestimated how strong of a grip flavored air alternatives had on teens today, so, I decided to go on the offensive. I went around campus knocking vapes out of young adults’ hands, letting them rip my inhaler instead. Unsurprisingly, the results were wildly positive.
What began as a one-man operation, quickly grew into an army of asthmatic wannabes. Kids were coming up to me in class—–in Blodgett Basement of all places—–begging to get a drag of my inhaler. I couldn’t stand in the Global line for pasta, without someone offering me two grand for my inhaler. My inhaler was stolen seven times in one week. It was all becoming too much.
I stumbled back to Baldwin, inhaler-less after taking the Pasta Kid’s deal. I thought I would use the money to get on my feet and purchase more inhalers, really build up my client base, but a little voice stopped me. It was the Vassar Director of Community Expectations calling to ask why the theft of inhalers had quadrupled in four days. Suddenly, I was being investigated for conspiracy to commit racketeering in the first degree.
Appearing at my Community Expectations hearing, I reflected for the first time on how I got here. This all started benignly enough; I didn’t want to admit I had asthma but ended up tapping into an untapped market that I didn’t want to stop tapping. My representation, a Vassar pre-law student majoring in Music and awaiting the results of her LSAT, suggested I plead not guilty even though the prosecution had everything they needed to convict.
I had a choice: I could plead guilty and accept my fate with grace or I could plead not guilty and try crying as my lead defense. Despite the GoFundMe page the Vassar students I had gotten hooked on inhaling had started for me, my defense was a lost cause. My attorney was playing the guitar and singing “Take my Breath Away” from “Top Gun” for her opening remarks. I had to stop lying to myself; the allegations were true after all. I ripped my inhaler one last time, summoning the courage, and pleaded guilty to asthma.