PUMPED

I pulled into a truck-stop coming back from a visit with my daughter. The pumps were all occupied, so I waited for a guy in a sports car, small like mine, whose spot was partially taken by a big U-Haul truck, leaving only room for a small car in the leftover space. While I was pumping my gas the guy in the U-Haul came out and jumped into his truck. I assumed he had paid for his gas and was going to drive off. He had room to pull out. I finished pumping and went inside to purchase coffee, something I have done a thousand times. While standing in line to pay, the man in the man in the U-Haul stormed through the door displaying his ire for the driver of the red sports car, blocking his pump. I will exclude the profanity he was spewing from his little mouth, attached to his little head, sitting atop his little body. When the ooze subsided, I employed the skills I've learned dealing with heated situations in my line of work. I calmly replied that I was the owner of the car in question, I was sorry for the inconvenience, and being next in line to pay I would be out shortly. All said with a big, yet insincere, grin on my face. After one look at me he quickly realized that I his 145 pound, 5 foot, 6 inch frame was no match for my 6 foot, 210 pound, all muscle frame. His regret for having left all his weapons in the truck was evident. He immediately started backing out the door, redirecting his anger at the cashier, cursing him for not keeping the pumps free of unattended vehicles. Technically, he might have been right if this idiot was not violation of his own imposed rules. He had been blocking 1.5 pumps for 15 minutes already and had yet started to fill his 40 gallon tank. I, on the other hand, was in and out in 10 minutes. His plan to occupy two pump stations while he filled his behemoth had been foiled by two sports cars that fit in the little space he had left in front of his vehicle. I figured his wife had kicked him out of the house, though I can't imagine anyone living with this varmint, or maybe he had lost his job and was relocating. Whatever, as I pulled back onto the interstate, the words of a song came to mind, "Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself." The coffee was good.