You know you're not in Kansas anymore when you pull up for some gas.
But let me back up.
See, we have no vehicle these days because 1) We sold our car before we left the Midwest and 2) Our van is somewhere in North Dakota lazying along in a car transporter, probably enjoying the kids' CD that we accidentally left in the player, much to the boys' dismay. So our neighbors, friendly folk that they are, said that we could use one of their three cars to get some much needed vittles for the home.
It would have helped if said car had fuel in the tank when I left for my outing.
But no, nothing can be easy for me, even a simple trip to the grocery.
Thanks to our new GPS*, I was able to punch in "fuel" and within minutes, drove to a 7-11, all the while enjoying the pleasant sound of ding-ding-ding-ding-ding telling me to fill the stinkin' car up lest it call it quits on the whole adventure.
[*And before you go off thinking we are Beverly Hillbillies buyin' us a GPS, let me assure you we bought this fun gadget with the weight machine money that I was oh-so-happy to sell before we left. Because, I'd much rather have a GPS to take me to Asian food versus having the exercise equipment to work it off.]
So this 7-11. I am happy to pull into the parking lot, but I see no fuel pumps around. But the GPS can't be wrong, right?? So I venture inside to ask.
Me: "I have a really dumb question."
Male Clerk: Raises eyebrows.
Me: "Is this a gas station?"
Male Clerk: "What???!?!? Duz eet luuuke like der are gahs pumpzzz!??!?!?!?!?"
Me: "Well, I was just askin'! Cuz I'm not from around here! And maybe they were out back or somethin'!!!"
So then he asks me which direction I was headed, and I said, "Look, if I knew what direction I was headed, I wouldn't be in here asking if this was a gas station. Just get me to some gas."
I got back in the dinging car, and beg-prayed it all the way to the nearest 76.
But that's not all!
You see, my keen friends had warned me that in our state, you cannot pump your own gas. And for cryin'-out-loud who knows why.
This little law is enough to drive an independent spirit like myself right up the gas pump and back.
What I didn't know was whether or not I was to get out of the car or if I was to just wait there like a damsel in distress for my Petroleum Prince to save the day. So I got out, of course, because who can just sit around and wait when there is a tank to be filled!!!
And to the attendant I said, "Could I have some gas?" (I love that line.) And then I had to quiz him about the crazy no-pumpy-yer-own-gas law, which he was clueless about too, because he was from Cuba.
And that true story folks, is a gas.
But let me back up.
See, we have no vehicle these days because 1) We sold our car before we left the Midwest and 2) Our van is somewhere in North Dakota lazying along in a car transporter, probably enjoying the kids' CD that we accidentally left in the player, much to the boys' dismay. So our neighbors, friendly folk that they are, said that we could use one of their three cars to get some much needed vittles for the home.
It would have helped if said car had fuel in the tank when I left for my outing.
But no, nothing can be easy for me, even a simple trip to the grocery.
Thanks to our new GPS*, I was able to punch in "fuel" and within minutes, drove to a 7-11, all the while enjoying the pleasant sound of ding-ding-ding-ding-ding telling me to fill the stinkin' car up lest it call it quits on the whole adventure.
[*And before you go off thinking we are Beverly Hillbillies buyin' us a GPS, let me assure you we bought this fun gadget with the weight machine money that I was oh-so-happy to sell before we left. Because, I'd much rather have a GPS to take me to Asian food versus having the exercise equipment to work it off.]
So this 7-11. I am happy to pull into the parking lot, but I see no fuel pumps around. But the GPS can't be wrong, right?? So I venture inside to ask.
Me: "I have a really dumb question."
Male Clerk: Raises eyebrows.
Me: "Is this a gas station?"
Male Clerk: "What???!?!? Duz eet luuuke like der are gahs pumpzzz!??!?!?!?!?"
Me: "Well, I was just askin'! Cuz I'm not from around here! And maybe they were out back or somethin'!!!"
So then he asks me which direction I was headed, and I said, "Look, if I knew what direction I was headed, I wouldn't be in here asking if this was a gas station. Just get me to some gas."
I got back in the dinging car, and beg-prayed it all the way to the nearest 76.
But that's not all!
You see, my keen friends had warned me that in our state, you cannot pump your own gas. And for cryin'-out-loud who knows why.
This little law is enough to drive an independent spirit like myself right up the gas pump and back.
What I didn't know was whether or not I was to get out of the car or if I was to just wait there like a damsel in distress for my Petroleum Prince to save the day. So I got out, of course, because who can just sit around and wait when there is a tank to be filled!!!
And to the attendant I said, "Could I have some gas?" (I love that line.) And then I had to quiz him about the crazy no-pumpy-yer-own-gas law, which he was clueless about too, because he was from Cuba.
And that true story folks, is a gas.
