I live in a pretty friendly town, I believe.
But today, I was the recipient of road rage – of a sort. Gas pump rage, I guess you could call it.
I was cruising down the street when I heard a “ding!”…in my Yukon, that means, “Girl, you better fill this monster up!” I swung into HEB, and started pumping gas into the bottomless pit. There were several empty stalls – usually, this gas station is waiting room only, but it was mid-afternoon, and it was virtually deserted. As I waited for my truck to fill, I thumbed through the honkin’ stack of mail I had picked up at the post office. I had the driver door open, so I could hear the gas pump when it shut off. I settled back, and was reading a newsletter when it happened.
I looked up, and nose to nose with my Yukon, in the HEB gas station, was a white Nissan Exterra. I looked at the lady. Uh-oh. I’ve seen that look before. Just not vehicle to vehicle, parked nose to nose.
She mouthed to me, “Move!” as she waved her hands wildly.
I mouthed back, “What?” At this point, I look around – is my truck on fire? What is going on that has her so excited? Nothing is going on, so I look back at her, puzzled.
“Move!”, she said. “Get out of the way! You are finished! Move your truck!”
I look back over my left shoulder at the gas pump. I’m at 17 gallons. Not even full.
I said, “Ma’am, I’m not through yet – this is a big vehicle.”
Repeat the above conversation, all lip synched, one more time.
"Ma'am, try another pump. I am not finished."
Like she can hear me.
She shakes her head, cusses a blue streak, puts her Exterra in reverse, peels backwards, and pulls up to another gas pump. I am in shock, and it has nothing to do with the price of gas my monster truck is sucking down its guzzle.
My gas pump finally shuts off at $75. That's a joke, this puppy isn't even full. I put in my credit card, and go at it again, trying to get the monster satiated.
While fueling attempt #2 is pumping, I walk over to the lady in the Exterra, who has now moved to another pump and is filling up her vehicle. She is a small lady, of Hispanic origin. She still looks pissed.
“Ma’am? Was there a problem over there? Did I offend you in some way?”
She says, “No. Is okay.”
I said, “My truck holds almost 30 gallons. I wasn’t just sitting there – it takes a while to fill it up. It's still filling up, as I speak.”
She says, “Is okay. No problema.” She is still mad, and won’t look me in the eye.
I walked away. I still don’t understand it. I’m not easily spooked – but it kind of unnerved me. I told MLH about it, and he looked at me.
He said, "There's a lot of anger out there."
Sad, that. Makes my heart hurt.