at least YOU got gas!

today's blog is a tossup between an ridiculously funny story, and my 2009 Christmas Letter.
Votes?
No? Why so quiet?
Okay, survey says, we'll go with the funny story.

So yesterday I go to get some gas. Pull up to the Chevron station, park, roll down the window. The guy comes up, looks a little scruffy, has some weird red stuff on his lip but I don't think much of it. I hand him my credit card, tell him to fill it. He does his thing, and hands me back my card. Its freeeeezing outside so I roll my window back up and wait. After about a minute I notice that there's no hose in my car. I'm just sitting there. I turn the key to engage the engine and my gas gauge stays at a quarter of a tank, where I was when I first rolled in.

Now I'm pretty hung over and thinking, "okaaay, no gas. weird. what's going on? where is the guy? was I declined? what's happening?"

I roll my window down and continue to look around, bewildered. Then the guy comes back and asks "What can I do for you?"

WHAAAAAAT?!??

Me: I just gave you my card, you took it, and gave it back. But you didn't put any gas in.
Him: If I took your card, I know I gave it back.
Me: No, no, no that's not it. I have my card here (holding it in my hand). You just didn't put any gas in. I just need gas.
Him: Oh well I didn't take your card if you didn't get any gas
Me: **AM I FUCKING CRAZY?!? IS THIS HAPPENING?!? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?**
I just need you to fill it with regular (handing card over again)
Him: Okay, no problem. (comes back gives me my card, walks off)

Okay, at this point I'm totally confused, replaying the conversation in my head over and over. Then I look back to my tank, and THERE'S STILL NO FUCKING HOSE IN MY CAR.

Now I'm really starting to lose my shit. No hose. Looking for the guy. No hose. Looking for the guy. What the fu-- What is ha-- Am I insane? What-- I-- No hose-- Credit card-- No gas-- Crazy -- I-- Wha--

THENNNN he comes back! "How can I help you?"

Now I am blowing my gourd. Whaaaat is going on. Seriously. I make ANOTHER attempt at getting gas. Tell him he just helped me, and that I needed gas. I am really about to have an aneurysm. I think there's no fucking way this is happening. WHAT THE SHIT?!???!?

Again, takes card, returns card, then walks off. NO HOSE. NO GAS.

Then all of a sudden a fireman walks up to him and puts his hand on his back. This is right in front of my hood. He pats him softly and motions to his mouth. Perhaps the red stuff was blood? The EMT seems to think so. He then walks Super Joe Gas Attendant off to the hospital or the loony bin or whatever.

I am somewhat soothed by this operation and decide to get the fuck out of there. I don't know if they guy fell and hit his head, or is just crazy in general. My fragile hungover mind can't handle anymore shenanigans. I jump out hit the "cancel" button 39 times and close up my gas tank. I'll be getting my gas from elsewhere.