Taco Bell: Ruination & Lamentation

I remember two things from Senior AP English : 1) Never stop for a stranger on the side of the road. They will probably kill, rob and eat you, especially if they are hot and wearing naught but a bikini; 2) My writing is obtuse and pedestrian in nature.

The following is evidence of both.

It was nearing midnight and I was heading for Taco Bell. I wasn't particularly hungry, but I was particularly fat.

On the way, I happened upon a poor soul, he couldn't be more than eighteen years old, who was jumping up and down in front of his car. The car was planted in the middle of the right lane on 21st Street, the busiest roadway in my hometown.

I was feeling magnanimous (perhaps due to the sweet thought of sour cream in my future) and decided not run his stupid ass over. Instead, I pulled in front of his car and asked if I could help.

He explained that he ran out of gas and asked if I would push his car 1000ft to a nearby gas station. Bear in mind that his car was parked in the middle of street with no caution lights or any discernible light source whatsoever.

I had three major reservations with his request:

• First and foremost, I am fat and lazy. While it was possible that I could push the car the requisite distance, it was highly improbable.
• Second, the nearest gas station was located on a slight incline, as was much of the distance required to get there. And we all know pushing a car up a hill, slight as it may initially appear, often results in, "Oh Shit, Shit..." SPLAT
  
• Finally, this situation seemed like the prologue to a bad (are there any other kind) Stephen King novel. Who runs out gas in the middle of a busy street at night, then forgets to use their emergency blinkers. I had a strong inkling he wanted to rob, rape, pillage and/or devour me.

I told him that pushing his car to the gas station was a no go, instead I would drive him there, thereupon he could fill a plastic gas container. We pushed his car 10 or so feet to the right, I then told him to turn on his emergency lights. As if to signify the half-assed journey to come, only one light worked.

Since I don't routinely carry a gas container, I assumed the gas station would have one. You know what they say about assumptions, they are only true when it comes to race, religion and gender.

The station attendant didn't have a container to borrow, nor was there one available for purchase. I mentioned using a jumbo sized soda cup instead, the attendant said no to my suggestion. Who am I to question the sagacity of a gas station attendant working third shift.

I drove to the next gas station. Low and behold, they didn't have a container we could borrow either, but they were available for purchase, which I promptly did.

Why did I purchase it? There is a very rationale reason: The kid didn't have any money because he "left it at his apartment."

The container only cost $3.50 or 3 1/2 Taco Supremes. It held one and half gallons of gas, which cost $2.50 (this definitely dates the story) or 1Chicken Quesadilla. After investing half of my potential Taco Bell feast in a kid who had the foresight to both run out of gas and not to carry a wallet, I drove him back to the car.

The police were waiting. As I mentioned earlier the road was well traveled, even at this late hour, and it wouldn't do to have a car blocking a lane or in anyway impeding the officers' nightly run to Teejayes for a Barnyard Buster.

I explained the situation to the officers, highlighting my good deeds and partial sacrifice of a late night snack. The kid seemed to clam up at the sight of their uniforms and, for some inexplicable reason, could not speak his own piece. After he poured in the gas, I took my container and continued on my journey for the finest in Tex Mex cuisine.

The kid didn't even say thank you, although I think I overheard him mutter, "God damn it"when I drove away.

The officers stuck around. They were still there, along with the kid, when I headed home, fifteen minutes and five taco supreme later.

I hope he was arrested, though I am not sure denying a chubby twenty something lettuce, tomato,cheese, hamburger and sour cream situated in a crunchy tortilla shell is a criminal offense – but it damn well should be.