Saturday, August 23, 2003

i drive in, get out of my car, and start fueling up. only in fort wayne will you get picked up at a gas station. it's friday, and still hot, so i stand with my hands on my hips impatiently, waiting until i can get back into my car and blast the air conditioning. it's only a mile away from my apartment, but it's friday, and i'm tired, and i just got back into the 40-hour-week routine. the guy across the pump from me blatantly peeks his head around and checks me out. "how you doin?" hi. i open my door and pretend to fiddle with something in my purse. after a few seconds of that, i return to the pump, and out of the sight of this guy. he looked decent enough, but don't do that. again, without caution, he moves down towards the back of his car, so he can see me again. the way he leans up against his car and folds his hands over his chest makes me want to puke. "looking forward to the weekend?" yeah, i say passively. fucking a, i think. could my car fill any slower? he averts his eyes downward, pausing at my chest, then towards my badge. he tried to make pathetic small-talk, effectively creeping me out at the same time. our pumps click off at the exact same instant. he thinks this is some cosmic sign, probably that we should end up at the same bar tonight so he can try to pick me up some more. no, i tell him telepathically, i think it's more like a race to see who can start their car and drive away the quickest, so i never have to see your creepy smile and perverted glances ever again. only in fort fucking wayne.

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