“Y'all ain't from around here, ere ye?" #1

Last weekend I traveled to Memphis for a football game and a mini-vacation. After finding our favorite barbeque spot (Nelly’s) had a 45-minute to an hour wait we decided to head in the direction of the game and return for barbeque the next day.

We hadn’t gone very far when my “Low Fuel” light came on, so I stopped at the first gas station I saw. I swiped my card at the pump and set the handle on the slowest auto-pump setting. Being a city girl and knowing I wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, I kept looking around, checking people out, watching my back. 8 gallons… 9 gallons… What’s that guy doing by the front door of the gas station? Oh, he’s lighting his cigarette. Great. Smart guy. 17 gallons… 18 gallons… 19 gallons… then splash. Gas pours out of the tank, onto the ground. I quickly grab the handle and turn it off.

Then the genius with the cigarette calls out to me, “Hey! What you doin’?” I told him the thing didn’t shut off like it’s supposed to. He makes some comment about me wasting gas – like I did it on purpose – and starts walking toward me while he’s saying it. I said, “Don’t be coming over here with that cigarette! You shouldn’t even be smoking here.” His retort: You ain’t from around here, are ya?” I said, “No, where I come from the pumps shut off like they’re supposed to.” What I wanted to say was, “No, where I come from people are smart enough not to smoke at gas stations.” I wanted to say that, but it would have been a lie.