Friday, December 5, 2008

Why I don't pump my own gas

So last night I stopped in to get gas on my way home. All the pumps were filled which surprised me. And there at least 12 pumps at my gas station. Gas was the same price it had been that morning. It wasn't Friday, or the start of a long weekend. As far as I knew there was no scare about rising prices.

I waited a few minutes, then pulled up to pump. Pumping gas is kind of a big deal for me. I don't do it that often. Mat and I have an agreement about the cars. He handles maintenance. And to me, that includes getting the gas. But I knew I needed it and I was getting home early, and since I drive right by the gas station on my way home it made sense that I stop.

So, I pull up to the pump and get all my crap together. We use speedpass, but it tends not to work at this station. Maybe it's all stations these days. Whatever. It's a pain in the ass. So I flip the switch to open the gas tank door. Turn off the car. Get my keys with the speedpass. Dig out my back-up credit card. Put my phone in my pocket. Take my gloves off. Realize I've parked awfully close to a post and very carefully ease my way out of the car. Then I watch a white minivan pull in to the pump next to me. My eye is automatically drawn to the front passenger seat.

Can you see?

That's a baby sitting on the lap of the woman in the front seat. Sitting on a pillow, actually. On the lap of the woman in the front seat. And you know what? The woman is wearing her seatbelt. She's buckled in but she's carrying her GodDamn baby on her lap on a pillow. In the front seat.

I had to take a picture. I didn't even hide the fact that I was taking a picture like I usually do. And then I considered calling 911. I honestly did. I was shaking I was so crazed about this.

After all this, I finally get down to business to pump my gas. And found out there was gas all over the handle of my pump. And now it was all over my hand.

And on top of that, the pump is running incredibly slowly. A woman pulls up behind me and I tell her I'm pumping a gallon every minute. The woman at the pump next to me lets me know it's not just my pump that's slow. Then I feel something whack into my leg.

A grasshopper has flown into my leg. And for some reason, he thought this was a good place to camp out. A grasshopper!

He didn't seem at all concerned as I tried not to freak out. The woman at the pump next to me leaned over to see. But the thought of a bug landing on her leg freaked her out and she had to go back to her pump. Me? I took a picture so I could post it on the blog. Then I used the napkin I was using to wipe the gas off my hand to shoo the grasshopper off my leg. And then, because I'm me and can't stand the thought of the little guy getting squished (even though he grossed me out by landing on my leg), I used my napkin to coerce him into hopping onto the platform where the pump is.

So, in case you're having a hard time following...first, there was the baby on the lap. Then my gas hand. And then the grasshopper on the leg. Fast forward 15 minutes, and my tank is now full. With 13.8 gallons. And I have to put the pump back in the holder. And that means getting my hand wet again. Yuck.

Amazingly enough I somehow have a couple wet wipes in my glove box with the Dunkin Donuts napkins. That's the one bright spot of my stop at the gas station.

And that's why I don't pump my own gas!


Me-ma said...

It's hard to type a reply because I'm giggling so much.

Emily said...

i'm with me-ma.

all i can say is DRAMA!!!!!