1. "That" Guy
I was driving on a three lane highway, driving on the left-most lane (or as I like to call it, bait for being pulled over). A neon, orange sign to my left read, “LANE ENDS 1000 FT, MERGE RIGHT.” So I merged and dropped my speed to 10 mph, like every other car in sight.
Every other car in sight, except for the red Ford F150 that was directly behind me. I managed to catch a glimpse of the driver, an older gentleman with a gray, footlong Gandalf beard that caught the crumbs of the half-eaten glazed donut he held in his right hand, his other hand on the wheel.
I don’t claim to read minds, but I’ll venture a guess and say he was thinking the following:
“Merge right? No, I’ll wait until the lane really ends so I can get past these desolate, mindless souls to my right who lack the intellectual capacity to realize they can skip 20 cars too! Idiots.”
This happened two other times in the next hour. There’s a lot of ongoing construction on the Ohio Turnpike.
2. A Familiar Awkwardness
I’m pretty scared to stop for gas in certain parts of Indiana, Arizona, and Alabama. Though certainly not indicative of the whole state, there are just enough cities/counties/heavily forested areas in these states where I get aggressive glances from folk to keep me on edge. People here have asked me straight up if I was Mexican before, which is pretty unsettling because 1. I look pretty damn Mexican as it is and 2. That’s a strange first question to ask someone who is buying Trident gum from you.
Thanks to some poor planning on my part, I was forced to stop at a Speedway in southern Indiana for gas and other goodies. As my car guzzled up some Grade A gasoline, I looked around out of boredom.
My eyes met with those of the lady at the adjacent pump. We held eye contact for a very solid 15 seconds. I refused to back down and look away first, but each second was incrementally more awkward than the last. Suddenly, I jerked upward once the gas nozzle clicked deafeningly, indicating my tank was full.
For absolutely no reason besides sheer anxiety, I yelled, “This is MY car!”
She looked around stoicly. There was no one else at the other half dozen pumps.
“What?”
“I DIDN’T STEAL IT,” I exclaimed.
In one of the most gracious and merciful ways possible, she laughed audibly, but loud enough to prompt the cashier to come out of the small kiosk and ask, “Is everything alright?”
“You have great gas. Delicious,” I said.
I decided to get in my car and drive away before I was jailed for harassment. I don’t know what it is about these kind of places, but I can never shake the uneasiness when I’m there.
3. I Didn't Do It
"Ew, dad, he took a poop everywhere!"
