I had a most difficult time getting my magical elixir on Saturday. The Gas Station Chicken Store seems to be sending me a message. A message best decoded as DON'T SHOP HERE!
I had a $5
winner to trade for another scratcher. I parked off by the moat
separating the GSCS's lot from Farmer H's pharmacy. I nearly skipped
toward the door (only my creaky knees, and the GSCS's humped-up gas tank
manhole covers preventing such), dreams of that 44 oz Diet Coke dancing
in my noggin.
An unsteady dude with a crutch entered
before me. I noticed a long line snaking back down the soda fountain
aisle from the register. I figured I could get my sweet, sweet nectar
and perhaps the line would be moving.
Alas, a weekend
dad with a toddler girl blocked the back aisle, the little lass
switching out each spouted drink bottle for another in indecision.
Crutch Dude knew them, so Weekend Dad chatted, in no hurry to let Crutch
Dude into that cooler, thus clearing my path to the soda fountain.
I could hear the next-in-line woman berating her own preschool daughter
for not staying in line, her own self hands-full with a giant box of
chicken and a fountain drink.
No. Just no. I can wait
in a line of 10 adults and not get antsy, as long as they are minding
their manners and own business, no weirdos in the vicinity. It's not
like I have a pressing engagement. But I do object to small children
running amok, and find it hard to smile and pretend they are precious.
So I turned on my heel and headed for Orb K. Where things got even
First of all, my favorite parking spot was
occupied. The truck door was open, but I didn't see anybody getting in. I
bypassed the very first spot, because it's hard to back out of with a
curbed sidewalk impeding a cut of the tires to angle out, and gas pumps
"Oh," I thought. "I'll just go around to the very end. The walk will be good, and I sometimes find pennies along there."
As I got past the end of the building, I saw two police cars parked
askance on that side of Orb K, and sitting at a canted angle on the
sidewalk at my intended parking space was a dude in yellow shorts and
handcuffs! So much for that idea. So I circled around the line of gas
pumps, and went back to the first spot.
I had to wait
at the fountain to get my Polar Pop 44 oz Diet Coke, because a dude in a
bright green worker vest was pouring FOUR Polar Pops. Then another lady
was waiting behind him, singing to some obscure song blaring from their
At least I found FIVE pennies near the
counter! I paused back in T-Hoe to send those pics to myself. The guy
who'd been in line behind me came out and got in his white work pickup
that was parked past an empty space to my right. He must have been
sending himself pictures, too, though it wasn't of pennies, because I
got them all!
I started to back out, but a white SUV
pulled its bumper past the pumps, and was making it a tight squeeze
going back. I was game, though. Until I saw a semi truck trailer coming
at me, the driver threading it across the drive-thru exit so the rear
doors were over that sidewalk. Huh. I cut my wheels the other way. I'd
just loop back down around the pumps again. Maybe I could see that perp!
Construction Pickup Guy chose that moment to back out, casting no
caution to the wind, having not taken his eyes off his phone to scope
out the coast being clear/not clear. His door was within three feet of
T-Hoe's bumper when he looked up. He gave me the sorry wave, and pulled
back into his spot, so I didn't even have a twinge of parking lot rage.
Almost to the back of the gas pump
row, I met an ambulance coming at me from the crime scene. The lights
weren't on, so I don't know if the perp was inside, or had just been
checked out. A police car was following it. As Farmer H said later, "If
they tased him, they had to have him checked out at the scene."
Never a dull moment in Hillmomba. For me, anyway. Only for those of you who have to read about it.