Gene Kaplin likes to hang out in the park at Fourth Avenue and E Street. He’s in his late 50s and has a blond, graying beard that grazes the top buttons of his shirt. Kaplin favors soiled flannel layered over a T-shirt and ripped 501s. If you saw him on the street you might think he was one of Anchorage’s homeless, a chronic inebriate – and you’d be right. But there’s a twist. "Listerine Gene" likes to get high on mouthwash.
Kaplin seems embarrassed by the "Listerine Gene" moniker. He prides himself on being a beer man, he says, with Natural Ice his brew of choice. But when the liquor stores and bars close or he’s short on cash, mouthwash gets him through the night.
Why mouthwash? Consider this: Beer is typically between 3 and 6 percent alcohol by volume. Hard liquor contains around 40 percent. And amber-hued, antiseptic Listerine? It’s 26.9 percent alcohol, or 54 proof. The mint variety is 21.6 percent alcohol.
At the Midtown Wal-Mart, a liter of Listerine’s generic cousin, antiseptic Equate, sells for $1.57. The 1.5 liter jug is $2.17. The cheapest bottle of vodka at the Gambell Street Oaken Keg is $10.
Mouthwash "gets you just as drunk," said a friend of Kaplin’s who wouldn’t give his name. "You just get what you can afford."
It doesn’t seem a likely problem. Anyone who’s ever accidentally swallowed Scope in a morning gargle can attest to the throat burn, the gag reflex, the stomach churn. But if you’re homeless and feeding a habit, it’s almost logical: you get five times the alcohol for less than half the price of what a liquor store dispenses, with less hassle. And when you’re done, you’re not just blotto – you also have less chance of gingivitis. If you live.
For public inebriates, Anchorage Police officers run a code three – which means they must break traffic laws to reach a citizen in distress – four to eight times a day, says Captain Audie Holloway. He estimates that 40 percent of those calls are related to alcohol substitutes like mouthwash.
It’s easy to tell when someone’s been drinking mouthwash, said Patrol Sergeant Gary Apperson – the stench, especially if the person vomits, is horrendous, he said. "You can usually tell from 20 or 30 feet away what you’re dealing with."
Last month, during a weekday lunch rush at the Midtown Wal-Mart, it was business as usual. Mothers bought Huggies, teenage girls tried on tank tops and clerks stocked shelves. But some shelves still looked neglected – in the mouthwash section. There was plenty of Scope there. Cepacol was in stock. But nearly all of the 1.5-liter antiseptic Equate bottles were missing.
On a return visit last Sunday, August 18, all of the 1.5 liter bottles of antiseptic Equate and Listerine were gone.
Asked if there were any more bottles in the back, a Wal-Mart employee said, "If we had any more in the back they would have been put out last night. They must go fast."
Indeed they do, and it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that Antiseptic Equate contains the highest concentration of alcohol and is the least expensive mouthwash of its type.
Mouthwash isn’t just strong and cheap, however. It’s also widely available around the clock at gas stations, grocery stores and discounters such as Wal-Mart. Its sale isn’t regulated like its beer and Bacardi cousins: There’s no identification required to buy it and no TAM alcohol management certificate needed to sell it.
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