Not Where You Want Your Hand To Go

Gas_station As I’ve mentioned before, my stress level really tends to show itself at the gas station. Apart from typos I normally wouldn’t miss, an occasional tendency to flip out over what the dogs should or shouldn’t be doing (God help my children if I ever have any) and a mild conviction online shopping can fix my problems, it really takes the service station to bring out my state of mind.

One of my latest trips to fill-up was no exception. Despite my successful efforts to pay at the pump, start the gas flow and even clean out my car, when it was time to leave, I found myself without car keys.

As a pro at losing my car keys, even I was flabbergasted as to how I could have lost what some of my friends refer to as a “janitor key ring” in such a small space and window of time.

After going through the entire car and walking the convenience store, it began to dawn on me that there might only be one place to look. And that one place was also the last place anyone would want to look – the trash can at the pump.

More scared than I’ve been since the last freakish horror movie the SO asked me to watch, I approached the plastic waste bin. Peering over the edge, all I saw at first was the lack of a trash bag and the dark, dirty sides of the trashcan. Within a few seconds, empty Mountain Dew cans and gum came into focus. Then, without fail, I saw the edges of what looked like both my keychain library card and my CVS rewards nob.

There was no denying that if I ever wanted to leave the BP station, I was going to have to go in – barehanded.

As someone with more disinfectant in my purse than cash, it was not a proud moment. Next to dumpster diving and the bins of disposed needles in the doctor’s office, I can imagine few garbage receptacles less appealing than the one at the gas station where they sell porn.

There was lots and lots of hand-washing – surgery-prep style – as soon as I got home.

What might be even worse is that this isn’t the first time I’ve done this. I had to rescue my keys from the trashcan at Goo Goo car wash a few months ago.

So, I leave you with this:

1. Keys are special. Don’t only learn to appreciate them once you’ve had to dig past the accumulated waste of all your fellow road companions.

2. The woman shoulder-deep in the gas station trash bin isn’t always crazy. Sometimes, she’s just really, really tired and should have had caffeine before pumping gas rather than waiting to buy her Diet Coke at the station.  

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