Since I make this trip pretty often I have pre-determined bathroom stops at clean gas stations. However, my bladder couldn't make it so I was forced to stop at a gas station at an exit and city I've never noticed before. The second I saw the gas station I could hear banjos in the background. The first sign was the unpaved parking lot and the gas station sign with bullet holes through it. True story. When I walked through the door it got better. There were three people standing around; one was a female checker and the other two were men just hanging out. There were 32 teeth total in the gas station and about 26 were mine (I had all of my wisdom teeth cut out and a few permanent teeth removed before I got braces.) I was waiting for one of them to brake their stare and say, "You got a pretty mouth."
I bet you, like me at the time, are wondering, "Does that include toilet paper?" That question was answered for me when I walked in the stall to see wads and wads of used toilet paper in the trash can. I easily could have thrown up but that would have involved getting up close and personal with the toilet; not an option. After I used the restroom I couldn't wait to wash my hands. As luck would have it the faucet didn't work. Being a germaphobe it was pretty difficult for me not to go into a full panic attack but I prevailed seeing as labored breathing would've only allowed me to inhale more germs.
I was relieved to be back on the road until I saw blue lights. When the state trooper got to the window I said in my most sweet, southern and flirty voice, "I wasn't speeding was I, officer?" "No ma'am," he said. "I need to check the temporary tags on your vehicle." I explained it was a rental since I was traveling for work. Once he checked the tags and determined I wasn't a dangerous criminal on the run he sent me on my way without a ticket.
Soooooooooo...................................
Basically my deodorant was shot before 9 a.m.
It sure feels good to be at home. Mamie thinks so too.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment