I am Larry David

My low-fuel light warned me to fill up this morning, and who am I to argue with such a device? After pulling into a local Hess, and stepping out of my vehicle, I turned to my left and saw an older woman pull the nozzle out of her car. I’ve been to gas stations hundreds of times, this is all boilerplate. But on this day, something different happens–gas continues to pour out of the nozzle! Free from the car, gas sprints to the concrete.

At this point, time slows. I could have taken a nap in the time it took for a second to pass. After it registers what is going on (I’ve never seen this before, can this happen?), I press for the intercom. No response? Does this thing work? Oh my god–there is still gas looking for a spark.

Forget the intercom. Run to the building. Is there a cutoff switch? Why is this building so big? You, yes you, there is a lady spewing your gas onto your concrete. Help. The cuttoff isn’t on the left, man this building is big.

Turn to the scene of crime, our friendly Hess associate, and the victim. Gas off, disaster averted. Close the curtain.

All said and done, a few gallons of gas rested on the floor. I didn’t see any explosions. No one died. I did get a great story though. (And no, I didn’t stick around for the hazmat cleanup or an explanation of what the woman did to cause this mess.)