The Lady in the Betty Ford T-Shirt

He needed to take a leak real bad, but his fuel gauge was right on empty, and he didn't want to risk running out of gas before he got home.  So he stopped to get gas, thinking he could also use the gas station's rest room.  He parked at the pump and headed for the store.   Some lady wearing a Betty Ford T-shirt in a BMW missed him by a hair as she screeched to a stop right in front of the door.  She beat him inside.  She didn’t want gas, just a lottery ticket.

There was a cardboard sign on the rest room door, out of order.  He sighed inwardly.   Now he needed the gas more than ever.  The lady was still waiting ahead of him for the guy behind the counter, whose vibes said that he wasn't there to sell gas, he had more important things to do.  He was talking on his cell phone in Russian.  Whatever it was about, it was really detailed.

The guy finally listened to the lady in the Betty Ford shirt, took her money, gave her the lottery ticket.  She wanted to make small talk.  Jesus H. Christ, people, he said inwardly, I’ve got to take a leak.  It didn’t help much. 

After a bit, he sort of waved the money to get the guy’s attention, and the guy finally reached over and took it.  "Number three," he said.  The guy nodded perfunctorily and kept on talking, alternately to the lady and on the cell phone, switching from English to Russian and back again.

He got out to the pump, still had to take a leak real bad.  He selected regular and tried to start the nozzle.   The pump didn't do anything.  He waited a moment, tried again.  Still had to take a leak real bad.  It was plain something was wrong.  He went back into the store.  The guy behind the counter had finished his cell phone conversation and was having a big discussion with the lady in the Betty Ford T-shirt.  "I gave you six dollars for number three," he said to the guy.

"No you didn't," he said, "You said number two."

"Number three," he said.  The guy seemed like he wanted to argue.  He still needed to take a leak real bad.  "If you hadn't been talking on your cell phone," he told him, "you'd have gotten it right.  It was number three."  He headed out the door.  The guy reluctantly started punching the machine to change the six bucks to number three.

The lady in the Betty Ford T-shirt had left the store and was getting back into her BMW with her lottery ticket.  He shook his head as he rushed past her.  He still needed to take a leak real bad.  "Trying to do two things at once," he said to her.

That set her off.  "GIVE . . . HIM . . . A . . . BREAK!!!!" she screamed.  "CAN'T YOU JUST GIVE SOMEONE ONE . . . LITTLE. . . BREAK??????"  She put down her lottery ticket and really got into it.  "HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE ON YOUR F---ING HIGH HORSE ALL DAY LONG?  JUST TELL ME!  HOW DOES IT FEEL????'  She kept on screaming from the open door of her BMW as he headed back to the gas pump.

What peculiar sympathies some people have, he reflected when he was at length able to get home and relieve himself, when urgency touches them in the tiniest way.

 © John Bruce

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