Three years ago, if you were to walk into a CVS store in search of condoms, you’d face about a 50 percent chance of hitting a brick wall. In 2006, 22 of about 50 CVS stores in the District of Columbia were guarding their condoms under lock and key. The glass-case treatment was reserved for neighborhoods with the greatest need for contraceptives—the wards with the highest rates of HIV.

Securing a three-pack of Trojans required you to alert an employee who would escort you to the glass condom case, unlock it, wait as you made your selection, then lock the case again behind you. The purchase could be further complicated by wait time, employee attitude toward condoms, and the customer’s level of shame—all factors which could deter a potential buyer from preventing the spread of HIV.

CVS brass, however, was more interested in protecting the condoms from those who refused to buy. The locks were in place to prevent shoplifters from “grabbing a whole bunch of condoms and running out of the store,” says CVS spokesperson Mike DeAngelis. “The stores that had to keep condoms locked experienced shoplifting to such a degree that our entire inventory was being wiped out,” he says. “There were no longer condoms available for customers to purchase.”

In the fall of 2006, CVS managers around the District began to reevaluate the policy. Twenty-one of the stores have taken contraceptives out of the cases, leaving only one Southeast stalwart with locked-up rubbers. But the managers weren’t unlocking of their own volition: They were just appeasing the activists. 2006 is also the year that students from the George Washington University’s School of Public Health and Health Services launched “Save Lives: Free the Condoms.” The campaign, now administered through the Metropolitan Washington Public Health Association, was targeted specifically at CVS’ condom policies. Over the next two years, Save Lives formed a coalition with other public health groups, drummed up media attention, and then, store by store, convinced CVS to free its contraception.

Though locked glass cases are still employed in the pharmacies to protect precious items like soap, toothbrushes, pregnancy tests, and lube, condoms have been upgraded from “locked” to simply “inaccessible.” But with the help of some new technology and a little repression, CVS condoms are still hard to reach in the areas that need them most. According to GW professor Caroline Sparks, who helped launch the campaign, “it is a misapprehension that condoms are now unlocked in Washington.”

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MEET THE “POWER WING.” Post-emancipation, CVS condoms migrated from the glass case to the “power wing.” The wings, in shelf-talk, are displays that feature limited supplies of certain highlighted products like sunglasses, batteries—and now condoms. The wings are designed to encourage a well-intentioned customer to grab one pack of condoms, while preventing shoplifters from making off with armfuls.

Shumaya Ali, one of the original GW students involved in the campaign, says “limited” is the key word in the power wings’ limited supply. “At first we said, well, it’s better than having everything locked up,” says Ali. “But when we did a follow-up survey, we would go to stores and see the shelves empty, or see that many sizes were still not available.”

An empty power wing is on par with a locked case—it means that customers must grovel with a CVS employee to retrieve condoms from the back. The liberating quality of the new policy depends upon how regularly employees restock the merchandise. Access to stocked shelves also varies by neighborhood. A national CVS watchdog organization, Cure CVS Now, collects user-submitted photos of “good” and “bad” CVS stores, often determined by a neighborhood’s median income and racial makeup. In the photos, a sparse dairy case in Compton is slicked with brown and black liquid, while a Beverly Hills case is fully stocked with fresh milk; a Detroit freezer case is littered with gnawed sunflower seeds, while one in Rochester Hills, Mich., is sanitarily stocked with frozen pizzas.

Jana Baldwin, a current campaign member, says the stocking disparity is no coincidence. “What I personally found, and continue to find on my 17 or so visits to various CVSs around D.C., is that when there are the power wings in the deemed ‘high-theft’ CVS locations, they are not well-stocked,” she says. “Interestingly enough, when I have spoken with managers about why they are not well-stocked, many have said that it is not because there have been condoms stolen, per-se—it is because they want to prevent theft,” she says. “So it doesn’t really make sense.”

According to Ali, the move to power wings didn’t do much to solve the disparity issue, but it did help CVS address another problem: public relations. “It was a small step that showed we were getting through to CVS,” she says. “But it didn’t actually improve anything.”

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MEET THE “CLICK-BOX.”

Though many CVS stores continue to tout the power wing, some have installed a more sophisticated contraption: the click-box. These clear plastic vending machines, which push out condoms at the push of a button, are modeled after CVS’ mechanism for dispensing razors. The device has streamlined the condom-selecting experience down to three simple steps: 1. Push the red button, 2. Pull the handle on the drawer, and 3. Remove the product. Some click-boxes have included an additional recommendation between steps two and three: “Wait for product to dispense.”

At CVS’ Columbia Heights store, some customers have had trouble waiting for the product to dispense. On a Friday night, CVS shift supervisor Dre apologizes for the store’s barely functional click-box, where red buttons rarely manage to push out the correct product. “Sometimes it gets stuck when someone sticks their hand in there before it’s ready,” Dre says. When the machine is broken, Dre is on call to unlock the click-boxes and retrieve the condoms. “It’s crazy, but that stuff gets stolen like crazy,” he explains. “I mean, I think they should be free.”

Even fully functional click-boxes are often monitored by additional store security. Many are situated right in front of the pharmacy counter, where whitecoats can watch your every move—or at least hear it. Pushing the red button triggers a loud grinding noise that makes the experience less than discreet.

Still, most of the time, you don’t have to explicitly inform an employee that you want them “ribbed for her pleasure”—as long as the condom makes it out of its cage. Campaign member Noraine Buttar recalls the consequences of reaching too deeply into a click box: “Someone who was working there walked by and snapped, ‘That’s not how you do that,’” she says. “That sort of reaction means that the process can still be very embarrassing for some people.”

The highly supervised, one-box-at-a-time method proved too liberating for one CVS store in 2007. Many click-boxes are fortified with additional locks, which can swing down over the case at the manager’s discretion. Save Lives: Free the Condoms staged a protest outside of one Petworth CVS when it found that the store’s click-box remained locked during business hours—meaning you needed an employee’s help in order to push the button to pull the handle to remove the product. According to the GW Hatchet, the CVS store unlocked the click-box in the course of the protest, but the store’s manager can’t confirm it: “I couldn’t talk to you about that,” he says. “We’re not allowed to talk to anyone about anything, regardless.”

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MEET THE “GAG ORDER.”

The Petworth manager was just following another CVS post-lock-up strategy. While competitors like Walgreens and Rite-Aid institute company-wide policies ensuring that condoms stay on open shelves, CVS has continued to delegate condom management to a store-by-store basis. CVS’ reluctance to institute companywide policies aside, the pharmacy has instituted at least one order: Employees are not to comment on the issue.

Save Lives: Free the Condoms encountered the gag order midway through its campaign. “We started negotiating at the national level, and while we were in the process of debating with CVS, lots of news releases were coming out about us, supporting our campaign,” says Ali. “Meanwhile, CVS was going behind our back and changing policies store-by-store—starting to put up the clear dispensers and power wings,” she says.

CVS’ strategy—eliminating locks while avoiding a larger discussion—lead to the swift emancipation of dozens of CVS stores. It also left Save Lives: Free the Condoms shut out of the post-lock discussion. “What we want is a comprehensive policy from CVS,” says Ali. “What they did was just take very small steps at the stores where they were pushed hardest, in order to avoid the press.”

Even as it rolled out the new devices, Buttar says, CVS refused to extend the discussion. After sending e-mails and placing phone calls in an attempt to open a dialogue with CVS, its communications team “started blocking our e-mails,” Buttar says. “I could tell what happened—they were coming back immediately with this message saying, “This address no longer accepts e-mails from your address,” Buttar says. Adds Sparks, “Historically, corporations that have consumer problems have two options: They can negotiate in good faith, or they can try to circle the wagon,” she says. “CVS has decided to circle the wagon, thinking that the whole thing would go away. But the whole thing has not gone away.”

At the CVS stores I called, store managers refused to comment on the state of their condoms, pushing queries to the corporate line—where DeAngelis, in turn, wouldn’t comment on individual stores’ practices. The information gap makes things harder for the Save Lives campaign, which must mount new inspections of CVS stores to ensure that the pharmacies aren’t backsliding. In February, Baldwin visited the CVS location at 2646 Naylor Road SE, where she found the click-box locked. Since that precaution can be added and removed instantly, Save Lives: Free the Condoms can never say for sure how many condoms remain locked. When called, that store’s manager wouldn’t discuss power wings or click-boxes, but he would offer one line: “We do not lock our condoms.”

DeAngelis says that the new devices have been effective in decreasing shoplifting—and activist attention. When asked how free-condom activists have responded to power-wing and click-boxes, DeAngelis pleaded ignorance: “I’m not aware that they’ve been in touch recently,” he says.

Photo by Darrow Montgomery

To the Employees of Several Washington-Area CVS Stores:

I understand that your CEO, Thomas Ryan, has stated that the CVS name stands for “Convenience, Value, and Service.” This letter takes issue with the third.

It has recently come to my attention, upon purchasing Sensitive Lady Products at several Washington-area CVS stores, that the employees tasked with accepting my payment for these products have not received proper training in How to Not Act Like A Jerk to the Ladies Who Purchase Sensitive Lady Products.

I understand it may be difficult to know how to handle the sale of a Sensitive Lady Product. Perhaps you’re afraid of offending a lady who may be sensitive about purchasing a Sensitive Lady Product; perhaps you have personal religious or political beliefs that require you to be sort of a jerk about doing your job. But you guys are Sensitive Lady Product sales professionals, and you should know how to properly conduct yourselves. Here are some tips.

How to Not Act Like A Jerk to Ladies Purchasing Sensitive Lady Products:

1. When your supervisor asks you to open the locked glass case that holds the Sensitive Lady Product I require, do not make small-talk speculating as to why I require it.

2. Don’t suggest which one I should get, either. You’re a dude.

3. On second thought, just don’t lock up your Sensitive Lady Products.

4. Instead, try to consider why you might have needed to lock them up in the first place. Hmm, maybe it’s because you’re total jerks to the people who buy them?

5. When it comes time for me to exchange money for the Sensitive Lady Product, look me in the eye.

6. Respond when I say “thank you.”

7. If you really cannot acknowledge that I am a human, at least ask if I have a CVS card! I can use some savings on these Sensitive Lady Products!

Sincerely,

A purchaser of Sensitive Lady Products.

I’ve written pretty extensively on how pharmacists can exert power over their customer’s contraceptive use. I’ve reported on pharmacists who restrict birth control by hewing to Catholic tradition; by refusing to talk; by extolling the virtues of “natural family planning”; and by writing absurd run-arounds into their policies.

Now, Shark-Fu of Angry Black Bitch and Shakesville details a more nontraditional method employed by some pharamcists in her hometown of St. Louis, Missouri: the “stank eye.”

“A bitch is concerned about the impact of stank eye,” writes Shark-Fu. “Specifically, I’m concerned by the stank eye many people are subjected to when they buy condoms at their local pharmacy.”

Shark-Fu was in line at Walgreens on Valentine’s Day when she noticed a young man preparing to purchase “two packs of condoms.” When he placed the condoms on the counter, “the woman behind the counter leveled the most intense stank eye on him that I’ve seen in a long time. . . . I’m talking the same level of stank coming from the eyes that this bitch gets from those wooden cross dragging protesters outside of Pridefest each year…mmmhmm, STANK!”

The man completed his purchase, but who can say whether the stank eye will discourage him and countless other victims from buying condoms in the future? And how might a concerned citizen combat the pharmacist’s stank eye?

Shark-Fu says: Fight stank eye with stank eye. “[W]hen I came up to purchase my juice I gave Ms. Thang some stank eye right back. . . I stared hard…hard as hell…so hard and so filled with angry disgust that when she lifted her eyes to me she physically jerked. And then she flushed and looked away.”

For most professionals, an acceptable excuse is required to miss work: a swollen appendix, ailing grandmother, whiplash, at the very least.

Pharmacists, on the other hand, may refuse to do their jobs for any old reason—or for none at all. We’re talking about birth control, of course. In the District, for example, pharmacists are not required to provide such products, especially if their “personal views” won’t allow it. According to NARAL Pro-Choice America, only six states bar pharmacists from withholding birth control prescriptions/doing their jobs: California, Illinois, Maine, Nevada, New Jersey, and Washington.

That means that D.C. is a hotbed of the ultimate bullshit defense for denying health care to women. Pharmacists here can refuse to provide women’s health care based on such “personal views” as latent sexism, unsubstantiated medical opinion, or whim. Some other “personal views” local pharmacies have offered up:

It’s private. A pharmacy’s trust factor often relies on its adherence to privacy—its hushed consultations, the 3-foot courtesy bubble between customers, pills wrapped in nondescript white paper packaging. For contraception allies, these conventions help keep birth control a personal transaction not subject to political interference. But right across the counter, the “privacy” excuse allows pharmacists to deny you access to contraception at any time while shirking explanation and accountability-no questions asked. A flack for Wellington Pharmacy defers to the privacy excuse—”it’s a relationship between a person and their physician”—as to why the pharmacy, affiliated with Catholic-leaning Providence Hospital, provides Viagra but no birth control.

This pharmacy is here to deny your rights. Those not interested in providing medications to humans can choose from a host of careers that are not involved in providing medications to humans. And yet, the D.C. area is home to several anti-contraception advocates that insist upon going the pharmaceutical route. For all these pharmacies gets wrong about women’s health-namely, their positions on condoms, birth control, and the morning-after pill-they often get one thing right: At the most fanatical anti-contraception outfits, women at least know what they’re not getting. America’s latest pro-life pharmaceutical poster child, Chantilly’s Divine Mercy Care Pharmacy, defied the tight-lipped industry standard with its grand opening last fall. Holy water slicked the shelves. A bishop blessed the operation. The AP took video. But though the DMC is the only local pharmacy affiliated with anti-contraception group Pharmacists for Life International, it’s less dangerous than the other area pharmacies quietly denying access to birth control.

They’ve got inventory issues. On a recent Saturday, I contacted 10 local CVS pharmacies to see if they had the morning-after pill in stock. Nine did. The pharmacist at the one that didn’t informed me that his store’s Plan B shipments arrived on Tuesdays, so I would just have to wait 72 hours to get my hands on the pill. Never mind that the effectiveness of Plan B decreases with each hour after unprotected sex, and that after 72 hours, its chances of preventing pregnancy are kaput. The representative at another CVS that did have the pill informed me they only had two pill packs left on the shelf. They, too, received new shipments only once a week, on Tuesdays, so my chances of getting the morning after pill depend on a guessing game of how many condoms broke in the District of Columbia in any given week. Here’s a tip, CVS shoppers: If you’re going to need to use the morning-after pill, just make sure that morning falls on a Wednesday.

They’re weirdos. Though it’s not uncommon for pharmacists to operate behind a shield of privacy, some display a distaste for discussing women’s health that borders on good old-fashioned sexism. When it comes to contraception, pharmacists are often skittish about discussing the most basic aspect of their business—which prescriptions they will fill and which they will not. And it’s not just pharmacies with moral motivations against contraception that aren’t talking. In a telephone interview, the proprietor at Dupont’s Tschiffely Pharmacy refused to discuss whether the shop dispensed the morning-after pill. But when I stopped in to try to pick up a pill pack, Plan B was in stock and offered with a smile. Georgetown’s Dumbarton Pharmacy, meanwhile, declined to discuss its contraceptive options at all. Playing coy with contraceptive options is less cute when women need to locate them instantly in order for them to work. No other common, FDA-approved, over-the-counter medication would receive such silent treatment from pharmacists.

Even chain stores like Rite Aid and CVS, which have national policies that adhere to the contraception-access requirement of the six aforementioned states, must draft elaborate plans by which to protect their pharmacists’ idiosyncrasies. Sometimes, those quirks mean losing business. Take Rite Aid’s policy, which outlines a three-step plan by which a pharmacist can avoid personally filling your birth control prescription: 1) Have another technician fill the prescription; 2) if there is no other technician on hand, contact the closest Rite Aid to dispense the medication, then have the prescription delivered back to the customer’s preferred Rite Aid location; 3) if no other local Rite Aid pharmacist will consent to dispensing birth control, locate the nearest competitor that will fill the customer’s need, then follow through until that need is met.

They don’t trust you—or your doctor. Cathedral Pharmacy owner Paul Beringer, a Catholic, will not provide the morning-after pill. “I consider it abortion,” he says. Non-emergency contraception is dispensed on a case-by-case basis-meaning that the pharmacist can nullify the decision of your medical doctor because he thinks a prescription might be faked, is uncomfortable dispensing contraception to women under the age of 18, or otherwise wishes to impose his “personal views” on your body.

They fear your vagina. Target Pharmacy provides prescription birth control as well as the morning-after pill. Other women’s health products, however, aren’t available even with a doctor’s signature.

Parker, 27, who declined to give her full name, came to the pharmacy straight from work with a prescription from her gynecologist’s office. It was 5:30 p.m. and raining, and she needed to fill the prescription that evening in order to prep for a procedure scheduled for the next morning.

But Target’s pharmacist refused to fill the prescription because the doctor instructed that the pill was to be inserted vaginally. Parker’s doctor had prescribed her Cytotec, an FDA-approved treatment for ulcers. The medication is also routinely prescribed off-label to dilate the cervix to induce labor in pregnant women, or, in Parker’s case, to aid in the insertion of an IUD. Parker-who wasn’t pregnant-learned later that the medication can also be used to induce abortion.

The pharmacist, who did not give her name, says she rebuffed Parker’s prescription because she disagreed with the doctor’s insistence on vaginal insertion.”That’s not how it’s supposed to be prescribed,” she says. “It’s supposed to be taken orally.”

The pharmacist says she tried to call Parker’s doctor’s office but wasn’t able to reach anyone at the late hour. Parker says the pharmacist never picked up the phone while she was there and that she had to beg her to consult her doctor before she got an explanation-that the office would be closed and there was nothing she could do.

Parker left the pharmacy in tears. “I got a little hysterical,” she says. “I couldn’t believe that this pharmacist, who has less training than my doctor, would deny me this medication that I needed, because it was specified that it went in the vagina?”

After asking for the name of a supervisor, Parker took solace in Columbia Heights’ other chain pharmacy. Still red-eyed, she crossed the street to the CVS. There, “a very nice, flirtatious Latino man filled my prescription, no questions asked.”

Photo by Darrow Montgomery.

The week in the Sexist:

1. Good Guys Trial: What Graure Could Face
2. In Defense of Abstinence-Only Vampirism
3. Capitol Pill: Rite Aid
4. Pro-Choice? Would You Perform an Abortion?
5. Sarah Palin Thanksgiving Video Corner

Photo by jpcolasso

Rite Aid, 1306 U St. NW (and various). (202) 328-8761.

With over 4,900 drugstores in 31 states and the District of Columbia, Rite Aid’s chain of pharmacies stands to dispense a lot of birth control. It’s also prepared for contraception hang-ups. Rite Aid spokesperson Cheryl Slavinsky says that the chain has policies in place to comply with all state and federal regulations for dispensing medication—and deal with those employees who hold moral or religious beliefs against providing contraception.

“Rite Aid pharmacists or any associates are prohibited from imposing their moral or religious beliefs on the customer, and it is his/her responsibility to fulfill their professional duty to the customer,” Slavinsky says. But if an associate chooses not to personally fill a birth control prescription—-or any other medication, for that matter—they have options.

If a Rite Aid associate doesn’t want to provide an over-the-counter item to a customer—like Emergency Contraception or condoms—they’re required to find another associate who is willing to sell the item. But since some Rite Aids only employ one pharmacist, honoring an employee’s objection to filling doctor-prescribed medication is a little trickier. In that case, the pharmacist is required to contact the closest Rite Aid to dispense the medication. In either case, the associate must offer to order the item or pick it up at another Rite Aid location and deliver it back to the customer’s preferred Rite Aid location. In the case that no other local Rite Aid pharmacist will dispense it—a last-resort scenario that Slavinsky calls “unlikely”—the employee is required to find the nearest competitor that will fill the customer’s need, and to follow through until that need is met.

The prescription policy is not unlike that of similar sprawling drugstore chains. But over the counter, Rite Aid’s contraception access differs from Washington’s other major chain, CVS, in one subtle way. CVS places its condoms (and other sexual helpers) behind a case and in front of its pharmacy counter. Rite Aid’s selection is more discrete—tucked into an aisle and outside the range of a pharmacist’s stare. Customers still must alert an employee to remove the packs of condoms from the shelf—they’re secured there with small, plastic locks—but at least one may peruse his options privately before informing a staffer that he intends to become ribbed for her pleasure.

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Mt. Pleasant Pharmacy, 3169 Mount Pleasant St. NW.

Mount Pleasant Pharmacy offers up copies, keys, passports, faxes, and a wheel of sunglasses in addition to its standard arsenal of prescription drugs. The contraceptive options here are similarly comprehensive. Though this 25-year-old independent outfit can double as a local dude hang-out, pharmacist Tony Majeed has got women’s health covered. Majeed says he’d “love to see the D.C. government subsidize women’s health products,” from birth control to over-the-counter anti-fungals. Until then, he’s got all forms of female contraception in stock—pill, patch, ring, and Plan B—behind his counter.

In the past quarter-century, Majeed has seen gentrification force out a number of local independent pharmacies, so he’s quick to note the upsides of fulfilling your women’s health needs at a non-chain outfit. Though the head pharmacist himself doesn’t speak Spanish, his seven employees are bilingual, and prescriptions can be translated on demand. But no matter the language on the pill bottle, prescriptions remain private. “We don’t sell our information to anybody,” says the pharmacist, who suggests that with the chains, you never know if your Valtrex prescription will end up falling into “that deep black hole of medical information” shared on national databases. Over-the-counter contraception options at this neighborhood pharmacy are more private, too. No locksmith necessary here—customers can peruse the shop’s condom choices freely without asking a sales rep to come fumble with a glass case or plastic lock.

Majeed says his shop also seeks to free up the financial burden of women’s healthcare. Customers without health insurance can still find oral contraception on Mount Pleasant Street for 20 to 60 dollars, prices the pharmacist says he doesn’t mark up more than a couple bucks. But Majeed admits that low-profit birth control prices are pretty standard across the industry, which is why some pharmacies can refuse to sell it without suffering economic harm. “They can do that B.S. because they’re not taking a big loss,” says Majeed, who adds that pro-life pharmacies can lose out in the long run. “Women are good customers,” says Majeed.

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Wellington Pharmacy, 1160 Varnum St. NE

Wellington Pharmacy is affiliated with Providence Hospital, which is affiliated with the Roman Catholic Church, which is affiliated with a God who isn’t too hot on contraception. Wellington acknowledges that birth control pills are sometimes prescribed to treat conditions other than the condition of wanting to have baby-less sex, Wellington declines to fill those prescriptions, too. “At the pharmacy, we cannot determine the purpose for why a person has a prescription for birth control. Because we follow the Catholic ethical and religious directions, we don’t offer it,” says Stephanie Hertzog, director of public relations for Providence Hospital. Providence does, however, stock Viagra. “Viagra is actually prescribed for both erectile dysfunction and pulmonary hypertension,” says Hertzog. In this case, that double use benefits a double standard. “It’s a relationship between a person and their physician,” she says about the Viagra prescription. “There are a few uses for it, and they don’t ask which one.”

KNOCK-UP RISK: “Immaculate conception” imminent.

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Tschiffely Pharmacy, 1330 Connecticut Ave. NW.

A call to quaint Dupont Circle outfit Tschiffely Pharmacy, provider of prescription drugs and curios, produces mixed results. The pharmacist on hand says Tschiffely fills birth control pills and provides Plan B over the counter. When asked if he has emergency contraception in stock, though, he wavers. “No, I don’t know if—I’m not going to answer that,” he says, before telling me to call back as a customer to get a clearer answer. When I visit the store a few days later, on a Friday morning, Plan B is in-stock and ready to go. Abortion pills, though, go unstocked on purpose. “I can definitely tell you I don’t have that,” the pharmacist says. So far, no customer with a prescription has tested Tschiffely. “That we haven’t discussed between our stores yet,” he says.

KNOCK-UP RISK: No comment.

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Planned Parenthood’s Schumacher Health Center, 1108 16th St. NW.

This 16th St. clinic, a stone’s throw from the White House, is the area’s leading source for affordable women’s health care, birth control, and abortion services. For the same reasons, the center falls victim to the largest unofficial barrier to contraception access: The “sidewalk helper.”

Roshan Anthonypillai, who fills a weekday 8 to 9 a.m. shift at the clinic, is dedicated to helping women who come to Planned Parenthood seeking to terminate their pregnancies. But Anthonypillai works as a different sort of abortion counselor; he is a representative of “40 Days For for Life,” a national anti-abortion campaign that has organized activists in 170 cities to hold vigil outside abortion clinics from Sept. 24 through Nov. 2 this year. Every day before work, Anthonypillai stands on the sidewalk outside the clinic, holding rosary beads and guarding a few trinkets arranged at the trunk of a tree: a small makeshift crucifix and a paper bag luminary adorned with a red cross.

“By standing here, I think I’ve convinced two to three women not to have an abortion,” says Anthonypillai, a 35-year-old Ashburn resident and a Catholic. Volunteers report those numbers back to 40 Days, which keeps a tally of saved lives; the campaign claims to have stopped as many as 268 abortions nationwide this year. Many more women, Anthonypillai says, have made the wrong choice. “Every young woman that I’ve seen, personally, coming in here, is coming to get an abortion,” he says of the clinic, which also offers gynecological exams, STD testing, and birth control. The clinic, meanwhile, keeps tabs on people like Anthonypillai: It staffs escorts to shield patients from protesters and sends visitors through a metal detector before letting them into the waiting room, where no cell phone use is permitted.

A little after 9 a.m. brings the changing of the abortion clinic guard; Anthonypillai hands off duties to Sarah Smith Bartel, a Hyattsville graduate student who arrives with her two daughters, Clare, 4, and Kate, 2. The girls take turns sipping from a thermos of hot chocolate as their mother explains her position. I’m trying to offer these women the right choice, one that recognizes the true femininity and essence of womanhood,” says Smith Bartel. “And, of course, preserves the life of the unborn child.” But though Anthonypillai is happy to head off to work, he says he has no plans to suspend the vigil come Election Day. “I’ll still be here, praying,” he says.

KNOCK-UP RISK: Depends on the shift.

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Grubbs Care Pharmacy, 326 E. Capitol St. NE

This neighborhood Capitol Hill pharmacy, run by owner-pharmacist Michael Kim, stocks the whole shebang—birth control, emergency contraception, and the abortion pill. Plan B even comes a bit cheaper here than at your corner CVS, at $41 to CVS’ $50. Abortion-inducing medication is available with a prescription and in-stock; a call to the pharmacy last week found that it will order the pill, and carries Misoprostol, a drug that is approved by the FDA for gastric ulcer treatment, but which can be prescribed off-label for use as an abortifacient.

KNOCK-UP RISK: Capitol Hill trysts that begin loudly at Tunnicliffís may end, discretely, at Grubbs.

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Foer’s Pharmacy, 818 18th S. NW.

Just blocks away from the sexually promiscuous real estate of the George Washington University, Foer’s Pharmacy is in the position to make bank off baby prevention. And though Foer’s displays strange bra-and-stocking-clad mannequins in its front window, its contraception options are less exciting. A Foer’s rep says the pharmacy fills birth control prescriptions and stocks Plan B over the counter. But if preventive measures fail, coeds looking to abort should look elsewhere: Prescriptions for abortion pills will not be filled, said the staffer.

KNOCK-UP RISK: Better start saving for their 529’s, just in case.

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CVS, 1702 Columbia Rd. NW (and various).

This D.C.-dominating chain addresses the birth control question as it does all things: with impatient efficiency. “Yes, yes, yes,” said the pharmacist on call at CVS’ Adams Morgan location when asked about birth control, emergency contraception, and abortion pills. Plan B will run you up to $50; abortion pills such as Mifeprex, which induces contractions to terminate pregnancy, are available with a prescription but could take a few days to stock if not currently on shelves. Condoms, 48 varieties of them, are offered up like vending machine candy bars: Push button, pull lever, remove product.

Mike DeAngelis, public relations director for CVS, explains the chain has a “policy to fill prescriptions for all legally prescribed medications,” including birth control and emergency contraception. (Though the FDA approved over-the-counter sale of emergency contraception in 2006, a prescription is still needed for patients under 18 years old). However, Joe Pharmacist can opt out of filling your pill prescription. “Under federal law and some state laws, we must also accommodate a religious conviction that may prevent a pharmacist from dispensing a medication,” DeAngelis says. Under that circumstance, however, “other arrangements can be made in advance to ensure the customer’s prescription needs can be satisfied.”

KNOCK-UP RISK: Low, low, low. Next.

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Cathedral Pharmacy, 3000 Connecticut Ave. NW.

If the name weren’t enough to tip you off, lead pharmacist Paul Beringer is happy to let you in on Cathedral Pharmacy’s contraception policy: “Depends.” Beringer says he fills birth control prescriptions “sometimes,” according to “the pharmacist’s discretion.” In Beringer’s 46 years at Cathedral Pharmacy, he’s had to use a lot of discretion. “You know, if a 14-year-old kid comes in, I don’t think I would fill the prescription,” he says. “If it was a legitimate prescription, yes. But if it looked in any way shady, no.” But emergency contraception—a pregnancy prevention pill taken after sex that is also known as “Plan B”—isn’t left to circumstance. “I consider it abortion, and I’m pro-life,” explains Beringer, who says his emergency contraception discretion extends to all pharmacists at Cathedral. “They follow my instructions,” Beringer says. “We don’t even stock it.”

KNOCK-UP RISK: Sex will lead to pregnancy, sometimes.

Tomorrow, a new Sexist project debuts: “Capitol Pill.” Capitol Pill surveys local pharmacies about their availability of birth control, emergency contraception, and the abortion pill, then charts them on a map of the District. In each installment, I’ll highlight a new pharmacy and rate it based on its friendliness toward providing contraception.

The project was inspired by last week’s grand opening of the the Divine Mercy Care Pharmacy, a Catholic-run outfit in Chantilly, Va. that offers natural family planning primers in place of condoms, birth control, and pornography. With the opening of the new pharmacy, Chantilly joined six other cities recommended by Pharmacists for Life International, including the yokel meccas of Hialeah, Fla., Richmond, Ind., and Superior, Neb. But I’ve found that drug-seekers looking to support a culture of life needn’t travel to Chantilly to be denied their one-a-day pills. Even though godless, liberal Washington, D.C., is a center of pro-choice activity, its local pharmacy offerings don’t always jibe with legislation.

Stay tuned to find if your local pharmacy will dispense moral posturing in place of the patch, neglect to stock emergency contraception in time to stave off conception, or shudder at the sight of your abortion pill prescription.

If you have any suggestions for additional pharmacies to look into, please drop me a line in the comments.