Eerily pitch black. Dark.
The shadows of the the shadows.
Pitch black will make you turn on the lights in your own bedroom. If there's one place I didn't want the U-Haul truck to break down, it was the middle of Iowa. As a kid I never believed in a Boogieman or Boogiemen, but trekking through this countryside at 4AM might sway you. Mickey was driving behind me in her 2001 Mitsubishi Galant and I religiously kept an eye on her as we rode through the corn fields. By the time we hit Iowa, I was pretty good at handling behemoth of vehicular metal behind me. Forget the fact that it felt like I was carrying all of our worldly posessions on tires fit for a bike.
The first gas stop on our trip landed us in the warm Midwest town of Stuart, IA. The sun was slowly coming up and the sights and sounds of Peterbilt day cabs and John Deere farm equipment created a chorus of grunts, rumbles and screeches.
People who live in the city come out here and claim they’re in the middle of nowhere. Have you ever said that before? You see two buildings, one of which is a gas station, and you assume there couldn’t be people let alone LIFE out here.
Speaking of people, I had some interaction with one of the locals of Stuart. What do you call people from Iowa? Iowites? Iowans? I gassed up Mickey’s car first as she went to give the cat a break from being cooped up in the car. After parking her car off to the side, I pulled the U-Haul truck around to the pump and began gassing it up. I swiped my debit card once for her fill up and again for mine. As I’m fueling up, I decide to take a walk around the truck just to make sure everything was OK when I feel someone staring at the back of my neck.
Yes, I could feel it.
I turn around and notice the gas clerk staring me down hard. His wrinkled face had a look of worried concern. A look that said “Is he trying to rip me off?” I consider myself a friendly person, but even more so respectful to my elders. So in order to ease the tension that was quickly forming I carefully coupled my head nod with a smile (ya know just in case he didn’t understand my initial greeting). He just continued to stare.
Fine. I went on with making my walk around the truck.
With a full tank, I pull off and by this time Mickey was back in the car. I rolled down the window so we could talk about grabbing some lunch at the subway down the road (yeah, down the road). As we’re talking I see our gas clerk walking towards the gas pump with a slip of paper in his hand.
I’m asking myself, “What is he looking at?” Then he walks towards me.
“Did you pay for this gas?”
Pause. Let’s just pause for a second. I paid with a debit card. Now I didn’t attend Mobil University like some people, but I assume he was the one that approved my card when I swiped it. And even if this particular station wasn’t that sophisticated, his register should tell him the gas was paid for.
“Is there a problem sir?”
“I just want to make sure the gas you pumped was paid for.”
Under my anger and frustration I showed him my receipt and drove off. Annoying. I was just as annoyed when I asked the young girl at Subway for more napkins and she yelped when I said “Excuse me.” See her back was turned, and the sight of me caused a sound to come out of her that alerted the entire establishment.
It was almost like I was wearing a mask that she had never seen before.
On to Nebraska.
The first gas stop on our trip landed us in the warm Midwest town of Stuart, IA. The sun was slowly coming up and the sights and sounds of Peterbilt day cabs and John Deere farm equipment created a chorus of grunts, rumbles and screeches.
People who live in the city come out here and claim they’re in the middle of nowhere. Have you ever said that before? You see two buildings, one of which is a gas station, and you assume there couldn’t be people let alone LIFE out here.
Speaking of people, I had some interaction with one of the locals of Stuart. What do you call people from Iowa? Iowites? Iowans? I gassed up Mickey’s car first as she went to give the cat a break from being cooped up in the car. After parking her car off to the side, I pulled the U-Haul truck around to the pump and began gassing it up. I swiped my debit card once for her fill up and again for mine. As I’m fueling up, I decide to take a walk around the truck just to make sure everything was OK when I feel someone staring at the back of my neck.
Yes, I could feel it.
I turn around and notice the gas clerk staring me down hard. His wrinkled face had a look of worried concern. A look that said “Is he trying to rip me off?” I consider myself a friendly person, but even more so respectful to my elders. So in order to ease the tension that was quickly forming I carefully coupled my head nod with a smile (ya know just in case he didn’t understand my initial greeting). He just continued to stare.
Fine. I went on with making my walk around the truck.
With a full tank, I pull off and by this time Mickey was back in the car. I rolled down the window so we could talk about grabbing some lunch at the subway down the road (yeah, down the road). As we’re talking I see our gas clerk walking towards the gas pump with a slip of paper in his hand.
I’m asking myself, “What is he looking at?” Then he walks towards me.
“Did you pay for this gas?”
Pause. Let’s just pause for a second. I paid with a debit card. Now I didn’t attend Mobil University like some people, but I assume he was the one that approved my card when I swiped it. And even if this particular station wasn’t that sophisticated, his register should tell him the gas was paid for.
“Is there a problem sir?”
“I just want to make sure the gas you pumped was paid for.”
Under my anger and frustration I showed him my receipt and drove off. Annoying. I was just as annoyed when I asked the young girl at Subway for more napkins and she yelped when I said “Excuse me.” See her back was turned, and the sight of me caused a sound to come out of her that alerted the entire establishment.
It was almost like I was wearing a mask that she had never seen before.
On to Nebraska.
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