A Quest for Gasoline

Preface:

On consecutive days I found myself at the Shell Station on the main street of a moderately sized town in the wealthy Northern Suburbs. As you will soon come to realize, I was born without two major ingredients needed to seamlessly navigate throughout modern society. Missing ingredients; (a) Patience for failure to display rational thought (b) a filtering system to make sure I don't scare the monkeys.

Wednesday September 30th, 2009 (approx. 1:15pm)

I enter the northern most entrance to a Shell station that currently had all but one lane occupied by construction purpose trucks or typical rich uptight assholes in large gas guzzling SUVs. I wait as patiently as I can (about 1 min. 40 sec.) I then realize this POS car parked in the only lane that will amply satisfy my needs (as my gas tank is on the passenger side). I then observe that not only is this car not engaging in the fueling process, but there appears to not be any occupants in the driver seat. As gracefully as possible I lower my window (always a mistake) and ask the nearby construction guy if he sees anyone in the driver’s seat? to which he replies "It don't look like it". At this moment I begin to feel the blood rushing to my head in such a way that can only be described as shown in "Me, Myself & Irene" when the music starts playing as lovable Hank comes to fruition. My only recourse during a time like this is to slow things down for a second and analyze the situation, to then make the best tactical decision to help resolve my problems. I slowly reverse and go towards the furthest outside lane. Having to back in, in order to get my tank in a serviceable pump location, I am being extra careful in looking out for idiots. Just as I slow about 3 yards from my desired lane, a large Black Ford Excursion flies in and parks (NOT IN A PARKING SPOT), but rather, right behind me in front of the shop -- out hops this absolute disaster of a woman. You could have the Taliban draw their interpretation of American women in art form and not even NEAR the appearance of this devil-woman. At this point, I am beginning to lose control. I decide to drive ahead and begin to slide forward and just before I get clear, SKREEEETCH!(no, not Dustin Diamond) another lesser-sized SUV with a large woman on a cell phone slams forward. She too was not there for gasoline, but rather to get more cake (in my estimation). Any way you slice it; I am about to asphyxiate myself in the parking lot as I am now stuck. I will waste no more time, so I step out of my car in search for the sow that can help pave my path to sanity. I reach the door to go inside and just then this broad-assed woman slams the door open in my face and flies through with complete disregard for me. That was the final straw. I turned around and calmly yelled "Hey lady -- is this how you run your life? with utter disregard for others?" She looks at me like I am completely insane (which is likely the case). She says to me in the least sincere tone of voice "Like sorry, what is it you would expect from me?". (With the multitude of possibilities screaming through my mind) I settled on "Judging from what I have seen so far, I would expect very little from you". Obviously knowing that it would have zero impact on her, I returned to my vehicle and just escaped through the newly created lane to the nearest exit....My patience completely exhausted, my acquisition of gasoline unfulfilled, I was on my way back to the office -- perhaps we try this again at a later date

Thursday October 1, 2009 (approx. 12:01pm)-- "A later date"

As the noon hour approaches I leave my office to return to the scene of my latest outburst (to those who know me, this is a common occurrence) and attempt to fulfill my quest for gasoline -- The best I could have hoped for was to just be able to fill my tank and get on with my life, yet per the usual this would again not be the case.

However this time, I can happily say -- I was pleasantly surprised as to what was next to come. Not only did I pull into Shell and find myself right in line for the pump nearest the exit, to ensure nobody could needlessly hamper my progress. Then as if from a time machine this complete hard body hops out of her dad's BMW 5 Series and scurries to the pump dressed like some sort of nightmarish combo of mom's old disco shirt (cocaine powder stain and all) and her years old child's gymnastics leotard and more makeup than any self-respecting hooker should apply (great ass, though -- I'm losing focus in my own story). As I look away (old trick my dad taught me about "landing hard bodies". I see she is accompanied by 2 other matching girls with LOTS of personality! Before I can even assert my eyes back to the 1st strange creature I see this warpo in the beat up '88 Eldo filling up next to me, tongue out, jeans baggy, hair spiked -- ready to be Prince charming (if you will). He immediately breaks the awkward silence after giving me the standard male code (mouthed word of "F-U-C-K" which typically is reserved for total hotties dressed scantily in public places). "Hey girl, where you all headin'?" Don Juan exclaims, then as if a voice from God (or the group of gentlemen crowded by the rear door of an adjacent building) I hear "Nice assssss" and some snickering -- Obviously those guys have lots of experience in courting attractive women, that is always the finest approach -- The girls look to really be enjoying their new found attention and she responds in a very seductive voice "to a ParTAY" (keeping in mind it is noon on a rainy October Thursday) I start to laugh and the guy creepily nods as if to say "Righteous dude" or "AFFLICTION" (I cannot be certain of which). I look at the girl and she says "Why wouldn't we party today?" and my only response in a completely monotone voice was "Hey it's Thursday afternoon who couldn't use some champagne and blow?" Their collective response was an awkward laugh (to which at that moment I believed was due to my creep factor -- but later I concluded they were just not quite getting my jest) then all the sudden I was outdone as more gents began their cat calling (obviously these guys are pros) and I passively shoot her a look and just say "It's a full moon out here, you ladies best get going before things get out of hand". Knowing just how creepy I probably came across, I had to fight back laughing uncontrollably beneath my shit-eating grin. Just then like the bell ending 9th Period English Literature, I hear the lovely “Click” and as I peered at my pump reading "$32.53" I knew my work here was done.