Of Petroleum And Pants-Crapping
Tonight, after Chris picked me up from work, we noticed the “Check Your Gauges Already, Or Else!” light flashing a bright red hue, blinding us from the left corner of the dash, warning us that an empty tank is indeed NOT a happy tank.
We received the message loud and clear, and rather than attempt to make it home trusting fumes and fumes alone, we decided it best to (get some chai, well, naturally, and) fill ‘er up at a mostly well-lit Tesoro a few miles from our favorite (see: only) 24-hour coffee shop.
Completely normal, right? Not a big deal at all, you would think. Or, in this case, WE would (and did) think.
We were having a grand ol’ time at the mostly well-lit Tesoro, me snapping pictures of Chris pump-side, and of myself, passenger-side, the both of us chatting through my cracked window and laughing at, well, probably nothing. We do that a lot.
I snapped this particular picture after we had stayed at our make-shift playground, our very own mostly well-lit Tesoro, five minutes too long. More specifically, I snapped this picture right before we both nearly lost our proverbial minds, and right before I myself almost crapped my own pants, out of sheer, undiluted, terror.
Moments after I took this picture we were admiring the mess that is The Backseat Of My Car. We saw a garbage can residing a convenient ten feet away from said mess, and thought: Hey! It’s Unload The Junk In My Trunk time. So, as sat, still buckled, in the passenger-side seat, I handed items to Chris, who was outside the car, bent over the driver-side back seat, to toss in said nearby garbage can. One trip to the trash later, and he was bent over again, his back turned to the rest of the mostly well-lit Tesoro, this time to pick up the second load of empty water bottles, remnants of past chai cravings, and various other garbage-y looking items.
I didn’t see him come from anywhere, but when I looked back at Chris to make a joke likening the amount of garbage we had collected in the back seat to the amount of sweet tea in Alabama, I saw a man with a bandaged head-wound and a blood covered blue t-shirt a frightening few feet away from Chris, and quickly approaching closer. I knew Chris had no idea he was there, and no idea that he was getting so close, and in the briefest of moments I surveyed the man’s hands to check for anything out of the ordinary (beyond a bandaged head-wound and a blood-stained t-shirt, that is), and panicked when I realized I could only see one of his hands. Panicked when I realized that his other hand was hidden from sight, and that he was clearly intentionally attempting to sneak up on us from somewhere in the dark of this mostly well-lit Tesoro.
The man saw me notice him, and after a brief moment of surprise on both our behalfs, he got even closer to where Chris was busily trash-collecting, still unaware that the man was there at all. Chris looked up at me a millisecond later and read the fear in my eyes. The blood-stained man looked like he was going to hit him, when I managed to utter a quick, almost inaudible, “Chris. BEHIND you.”
Chris looked confused, and muttered “What?” as he simultaneously turned around sharply to face the man who was now done sneaking. At this point he was mere inches from Chris’ face.
I have never seen anyone react so quickly as Chris did in that moment. He instantly puffed up, stood three inches taller (I swear), and asked, in a not so six-inch voice, exactly WHAT was his great big idea, scaring the proverbial shit out of the both of us, and COULD HE PLEASE BACK THE EFF UP, thank you very much.
The man seemed drunk or drugged when he spoke, slurring something about wanting to give us twenty dollars. Slurring something about wanting us to drive him thirty-seven blocks South. He was touching the top of my car, still way too close for comfort. Still covered in blood.
Chris told him in not so many words that we did not appreciate his menacing approach, and would he please stop touching the car? And no, we would not be driving him anywhere, and also, we are leaving. That first part I am paraphrasing. And filtering, a bit. For the good of mankind. And also for my family who reads this website. That last part he mostly said to himself, or I imagined him saying, because I think I was saying “We should go. We should go. We should go.” over and over, as if me saying it would will it to be so. I might have even been rocking back and forth at that point.
As Chris locked and slammed the back door, jumped in the front seat, and put the car in drive, I saw the man reach his right hand out for the back-seat door handle. Not that it would have mattered, because it was locked, and also because Chris hit that gas pedal so hard I’m surprised we weren’t somehow magically transported instantly home. BUT HE REACHED FOR THE DOOR HANDLE. And again, in that moment I wanted to scream, but I was only quiet. Save the “Go, go, go. PLEASE, we will go.” muttering, that is.
I was frozen in shock throughout most of the ordeal, and it wasn’t until everything was over, and we were half-heartedly making jokes about being scared out of our wits by “Head-wound Harry,” * that I realized I had instinctively reached my left hand into the pocket of my apron where I keep my wine-key. I don’t know what I thought I would have done with a 2-inch blade. But I do know I felt safer with my hand there.
I also know that we are never stopping at that mostly well-lit Tesoro again, ever, for as long as we both shall live. Upon pain of the blinding red dash-board warning light, or otherwise, amen.
* Chris never misses an opportunity to (save the day, yes! and also) reference SaturdayNightLive. What can I say? It’s a gift.
OMG… how scary! I would have totally freaked out. Thanks God Chris stayed so cool and you got away from this weirdo. Yeah, never go there again… ever!
What a disturbing story! I’m glad you’re both OK, but I’m curious about that guy. Do you think he was injured and needed help? Did you call the cops when you got home to let them know some crazy with blood stains was wandering around the gas station? It sounds like he needed to be picked up and hauled in to the county drunk tank, or something. I don’t know. I’m sure in retrospect, you both probably thought of a dozen different ways you could’ve reacted. Or maybe I just needed to be there to fully experience the terror you felt, and then I would’ve done the same thing. Gotten the hell outta there! Gah. Me no likey. Especially since you’re in the same state as I.
What a terrifying experience! I am glad you’re both okay.
Did you call the cops- he could have had a major concussion- people with brain injuries don’t act right. Or he could be drunk or both.
I don’t blame you for never going back to that gas station. Just reading this had my adreniline up!
From now on- just get the gas and straight home young lady!
gosh, that sounds like a scary-movie-moment. SO glad nothing really happened, you got away safely and that you had chris with you! *hugs*
Yiiikes. Glad you guys got out of there!
AAAACK! So scary!!! I’m glad you guys got out of there safely. *Shudder*
There was a guy on the corner of my freeway on-ramp Friday. He had a gas can in his hand. There were no cars needing gas anywhere nearby. As I was approaching him, he stepped off the curb into my lane as if to stop me. I hit lock on all the doors, and swerved slightly into the left lane to avoid hitting him. I slowly went past, and just as I got past him I had to stop because the car in front of me did. He swiped the side of my car with his hand, leaving finger marks in the dirt across the back passenger door. My son was sitting there. He was looking out the tinted window at the guy with a really confused look on his face, while I contemplated running OVER the car in front of me to get the heck away. It was just a second that I was paused there, but it felt like an hour. CREEPY!!!
SO scary…thank God you are both okay. I hate moments like that…and I don’t ever react well or the way I think I should have when I look back on it.
Glad you guys both kept your heads and got away from there!
xo
This is my first time here, coming from Sarah, and this was one scary introduction to your site! Maybe you need to republish this on Halloween. You were definitely smart to call out, since you had no idea where this situation was heading…
!!!!!
Oh! You had me holding my breath the whole time! I’m so glad you both are okay!!! Tons of hugs and smooches to both of you!
WOW!!! I too am glad you’re ok!!! I bet it all seemed surreal (sorry if I spelled that wrong). Like it couldn’t be happening to you. That’s CRAZY!!! Sounds like Chris is a guy who won’t back down and will protect his lady….
Holy sh*t that is super-scary!!! He freaking REACHED FOR THE DOOR HANDLE. Yikes. I’m glad you guys are okay. And apparently? The universe prefers your car cluttered.
I’m so glad Chris was with you.
I’m also feeling less scared about the fact that people in the next yard are throwing steak knives into styrofoam right at this very moment. Seems much less menacing somehow.
Yikes. My heart is still pounding. I need mashed potatoes.
my Frans! i’m so glad you guys are okay. if you need me to eff anyone up for you, don’t hesitate to ask. although, from the sound of it, chris seems to have the effing up of crazies under control. tell him i heart him for taking care of my Frans.
Yikes! That’s disturbing and frightening. Glad you got away and that Head Wound Harry didn’t cause anymore trouble than bleeding near your car.
wierd. i ran across a dude with bloody bandaged legs on saturday. he told me within two years he’ll be on Jay Leno.
Oh my gosh. FREAK OUT. I think I would have peed in my pants. Or hyperventilated. That is sssoooooo scary.
Also. An apron? Why were you wearing an apron at the gas station?
Jes, I just had this awesome image of you thinking of me wearing a full-length kitchen apron at the Tesoro. And I laughed. I should have explained the apron a bit better. Rather than preparing to cook, I had just finished with the “night shift” job. I work at a Jazz club, bartending/serving, so we wear black “half-aprons,” where we keep our wine keys and pens and miscellaneous other goodies. I almost always forget to take it off before I get in the car.
GAAAAAH! NO!
I just crapped myself reading this. An apron?
And then I crapped myself reading what happened! Oh my GOD, the horror. Did the gas station attendant even see anything?
Dude, I’m glad you guys are OK. You are definitely a team. How scary for you both.
And the Massive Headwound Harry reference is classic.
Wow KerriAnne.. Scarring shit. Glad you’re both okay.
OMG…Glad to hear you two were ok.
Wonder what happened to that joker that he was all bloody?
Crazy ass people in this world I tell you.
Isn’t it good to know that you can react so well in the face of such craziness? Yeah, I don’t mean that in a “look at the good side” kind of way, either. I just mean, thank god you’re okay. Good for Chris, for locking the doors and then getting you both the heck out of there, safely.
He reached for the door handle, oh my…
P.S. I love the Massive Head Wound Harry reference. Way to inject humor!
Holy fuck. Glad it worked out.