Gas Stations and Mooning People

I hate gas stations. This is a long story to prove that. I've dreaded them since the day I turned sixteen and went to my first gas station alone. It's beyond humiliating when it takes longer for you to screw the gas cap back on than it does to actually pump the gas.

Well, this weekend marked the beginning of birthday week for one of my most wonderful friends. Being a huge fan of birthdays, I rushed out to buy some of those window markers to decorate my beloved car (whose name is Zoe in case you wondered). On my way back from the store, I decided to read the instructions and it mentioned that the windows should be clean. Well, mine certainly were not. And I needed gas, so the logical thing was to go to the gas station.

So far, we're making total sense here.

Well, what I did not factor in was that I was in a very flowy dress. Emphasis on very flowy. And it was a very windy day. And of course, it had to be grand central station at the Kroger gas place.

So I get out of my car feeling all giddy about my decorating plan when I notice a large tent in the parking lot. Under it was about five youngerish men, and I awkwardly make eye contact with one of them. That's when I realized they were selling something and I was about to get asked to buy it. I'm not a huge fan of these situations because I'm already giving up my favorite kidney to buy my gas, so quite definitely I do not want to spend money on some random product.

Sure enough, this 20-something-year-old walks over to me with some can in his hand. I half-smiled but looked away, the universal signal for "I am acting like I don't know you want to talk to me, so let's not talk to me." He did not take my social cue and approached me. I felt bad because he looked scared. He had no spiel ready, and obviously wasn't feeling comfortable with his winging it strategy, so that left us both feeling awkward. He finally got out that in the can he was holding was waterless window washing solution. Miraculous. You simply spray and wipe it off with a towel. Now, would I like a demonstration? Wanting to end this agony ASAP, of course I nicely said no, that's okay.

Now here is a man who has just volunteered to wash my windows, and I turn him down. He walks back to his posse at the tent and I start feeling really dumb as I grab the squeegee to wash the windows myself.

The men in the tent are now watching me heroically tackle the windows without this magical can stuff when out of nowhere, disaster strikes. The wind picks up my entire dress. I repeat, my entire dress is blown upward. Not like a cute little breezy swish, no as in my pink underwear are exposed for all to see and my face is pure horror. Flustered to say the least, I hurriedly grabbed it as best I could and looked around at the millions of people at Kroger. My embarrassed brain told me there was absolutely no way that freak accident would happen again, and being determined to clean those dang windows, I pressed on.

As I'm reaching my arm across the front windshield, the wind decides to pick up again and there goes my dress for the second time. Mortified, I look over at the tent and realize they are laughing at me. Bound and determined and furiously blushing, I stuff my dress between my legs while muttering to myself, and attempt to finish the window. Only that doesn't work. The entire backside of my dress goes up and STAYS UP, PEOPLE.

So there I am. Standing like a person with cramps, a wad of my dress in one hand and a dripping squeegee in the other thinking how the heck do I move. As if I could not be more embarrassed, I see one of the tent workers make his way towards me. The first thing out of his mouth is, "Stop mooning everyone. Let me do this, sweetheart. You just stand there and hold your dress." I literally could not breathe, let alone respond. Finally, I give a fake laugh and hurry to explain why I'm still standing outside when clearly it's hazardous. "You see, it's my best friend's birthday and I'm decorating the car so I have to clean the windows." "Oh, is this her car?" "Um no, this is my car. I'm going to drive her. With the decorated windows. But they have to be clean." 

I'm shocked the blood vessels in my face did not spontaneously combust.

The guy then starts attacking the windows with this can cleaner and gives me the entire speech of how wonderful it is and how much I need it and would I just look at the difference?! And I just stood there holding my dress down against the tornado, trying really hard not to cry. I was tempted to scream I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR CAN STUFF and run away, but instead I had to nod my head emphatically and bite my lip as he finished with, "If I were you, I would always wear a pair of boxers or tights. I tell my sister that all the time. Just put it on and it's better for ya." Then he made me look at the difference that stuff made on my headlights.

Great. Just great.

As I finally pulled out of that putrid place, I passed the tent and all the men smiled and waved. That's when I teared up.

I went home and changed. The end.