Gas Crabs

Here in the Atlanta area, there is a shortage of gasoline. Most gas stations don't have gas prices on the exterior signs and the pump handles are covered with plastic bags. I've been conserving (napping a lot instead of leaving the house) so my tank of gas has lasted me a long time, but today the gas light came on and it was time to refuel. I finally found a gas station with one grade of gas, and got in line to wait my turn to fill my tank and empty my wallet.

I had a magazine in the car to help me pass the time, but the people watching was so exciting, I never even picked up the magazine. It's funny how crabby ordinary people become when they are in a line for gasoline. I was sweating the whole deal a little myself, figuring the pump would run dry just as it was my turn, but a lot of people were just plain bitching each other out in the parking lot of the gas station. People were getting cussed out for being too slow to pay with cash inside before they pumped.

Immediately to my right, two old old men pulled up in a panel truck nearly as old as they were and started pumping gas. Old Man 1 (the driver) pumped gas while Old Man 2 hobbled inside the gas station to drain his lizard, I suppose, because he hobbled back out empty handed a little while later. By this time, OM1 was done pumping gas so he went inside to do his business. He didn't bother to move his truck up to the non-working gas pump directly in front of where he was so that the people in the long ass line behind him could start pumping. OM2 decided to wash the windshield very thoroughly. Thoroughly and methodically. And slower than Christmas. The nice lady in the burgundy Honda behind him went from nice lady to raving she-bitch in the span of time that OM2 scrubbed half of the windshield.

As I was exiting the pump, I needed to cut through the line that was running the opposite way to get out of the parking lot. Because the 2 Old Men were finally being run off of the pump, there was a gap opening up behind about the third car. Since people were sitting there with the engines off it took a few seconds for them to pull up so I went ahead and pulled through the spot, apparently infuriating the driver of the 4th car, another old man who felt the need to yell at me like I was cutting in line and not driving on through to make way for someone else like I was actually doing. I had my window down and yelled, "Simmer down, you old bastard" at him. I can't imagine how ridiculous I looked for yelling that at an old man in a very crowded parking lot. I just don't know what gets into me. But I could have stayed there all day calling people old bastards.