Bed, Bath, And Beyond

I have a very distinct memory of the moment that drug abuse first entered my consciousness: Magic Markers. It would have taken a whole lot of them, but that vaguely medicinal aroma of red or black had a bunch of us second graders leaving the cap off for one more lingering whiff. I remember when the model glue started smelling like Lemon Pledge, though that seemed kind of counterproductive. I had a cousin who used to get high on Liquid Paper. These weren't drugs. They were office products, and yet, they were the ultimate gateway drug. Creepy and sad, but drugs nonetheless.
Over the years, there have been plenty of household items that have found their way into the noses, mouths and brainpans of our youth. I suspect that there may have been some special inhalant in the whitewash that Tom Sawyer offered up to his friends to paint his Aunt Polly's fence. It's an American tradition, and now it includes your mom's bath salts.
Sold under such names as Ivory Wave, Bliss, White Lightning and Hurricane Charlie, the chemicals can cause hallucinations, paranoia, rapid heart rates and suicidal thoughts. With those kind of effects, who wouldn't want to stick their face in a big pile of the stuff? Why bother diluting that "invigorating bath experience" with all that water? You can have a stimulating binge without ever filling up the tub. It certainly makes winning the war on drugs much more difficult. And shopping for Mother's Day just got a little more difficult.