Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Buying Gas At Dairy Mart

"A bee," she said with a smile on her face, shoulders shrugging.

The problem wasn't the bee at all, at least for me, that is. I was just minding my own business, talking on my cell phone, filling up the white VW Beetle with "The Who" sticker on the back bumper at the Dairy Mart gas pump.

I don’t normally stop at the Dairy Mart gas station, but the gas gauge beeped at me that I was going to run out of gas yet again, which would not have been a good thing. And why don’t I stop at the Dairy Mart gas station? Because “Dairy” implies milk, not gasoline and other automotive petroleum products. The individuals who stop in at Dairy Mart buy gas as an afterthought. They are there for milk, bread, eggs … and they might as well get some gas, too, while they’re at it. Amateurish. Unsophisticated.

So, there I was, like I say, minding my own business, talking on my cell phone, when I glanced over at some type of commotion on the other side of the gas pump island. A woman, fortyish, short dark hair with blond streaks, like she had her teenage daughter do the coloring, Mickey Mouse t-shirt over khaki shorts, was waving the gas pump nozzle around, pointing it at me, swinging it back and forth, like she was trying to shake gasoline out of the nozzle. But the damn thing was swinging, pointed in my direction!

This is what I get for stopping at Dairy Mart for gasoline. "Don’t be pointing that thing over here!" I yelled, trying to dance this way and that to avoid the black hole that was the business end of the nozzle, trying to pump my gas and talk on the phone. I didn’t want to yell, but it just came out in that panicky, don’t-wanna-get-doused-with-gasoline-and-be-a-human-torch kind of way.

The client on the other end of the phone call wanted to know what was going on. I said I’d call back.

The lady dropped the nozzle on the ground and jumped over the raised concrete island, patting and brushing her clothes, as if she was putting out an imaginary fire. "A bee," she screamed.

Like I said ... amateur.

Posted by Bill at August 24, 2004 12:06 PM