Near freak gasoline fight accident!
I just had one of the worst pouring gas experience, ever.
Last weekend I headed to the gas station which ended up getting a little bit packed. I parked behind some guy’s car, who was in the middle of pouring gas, but as soon as he was done, he decides to clean the inside of his car! He’s taking junk out and putting them into the trashcan. After waiting for an extra four minutes I realized the man has a shitload of shit to throw away and wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon, so I looked for another spot, and from where I was looking, it looked empty.
I drove to that spot only to find a fucking gawddamn car hogging up all the space because his car was parked exactly between two pumps sitting beside each other. I waited for a whole minute and a half, looked at the car’s owner, and he looked at me, but looked away as if nothing was wrong. Before I could ask him to scoot his car up a little further so I can pour some gawddamn gas, the man who was cleaning out his car was gone, and his spot was available.
I drove back to my original spot and finally was able to pour gas. As I was waiting, I noticed that it took a little bit longer than usual, two seconds later, the gasoline starts to overflow! And when I mean overflow, I mean there was fucking fuel shooting out of the pocket, and it was getting all over my legs and feet. Now this was pretty weird because when you’re pouring gas and the tank gets full, you should hear a click and everything automatically stops, right? But mine didn’t, it kept on going, and LOTS of it.
I’m not panicking at the moment, I took the nozzle out of the filling entry and it’s STILL running. Remember the scene in Zoolander where the guys were having a gasoline fight? Yeah it looked something like that. Except only one person was holding a running nozzle, and I did not have orange mocha frappuccino that day.
Turns out that the latch that locks your handle so it could run by itself, was jammed, and I wasn’t able to unlock it. At this point, I’m panicking like a little bitch. I drop the nozzle and run inside to get the cashier, as the running fuel continues to spread throughout the floor like a fucking disease.
“Dude my thing is overflowing, you gotta help me, there’s gasoline everywhere!” These weren’t my exact words, I was too nervous and too scared at the time to remember what had actually happen.
The cashier man looks at me with a blank face, then in his heavy Mexican accent he belches, “Wath do you think you’re thrying to pool aye? You theenk iz funny huh? You theenk iz real funny!”
Oh my gosh, he doesn’t believe me.
“No, no, no, it really is. You gotta check it out, my thing is overflowing! It’s everywhere on the floor!”
After a few desperate attempts of convincing the cashier that I got Old Faithful running right outside of the store, I’m like fuck it, I bolted out and noticed a man at my station, trying to turn off the nozzle which I had failed to stop.
When he finally got it to stop, he said, “You better go now, someone might drop a cigarette!”
Taking my savior’s advice, I sped off, fast, before a cigarette could even be lit. Hands were trembling like a leaf, feet reeked of gasoline, and couldn’t stop thinking about the terrorizing thought of pouring gas again.
