Circus K

I recently visited what I have grown to refer to as "My Circle K."

I imagine at this point that we all have one or two that we call our own. In the age of the almighty Starbucks and the infestuous Wal-Greens, we seem to have forgotten, or at least have taken for granted the original King of Convenience. This is, in my observation quite unfortunate for us. For while high society may look with scorn upon the decomposing vestige that is the Circle K, lower society hasn't. And by lower society I mean those both less intellectually fortunate, and less economically fortunate.

Now before anyone gets there silk panties twisted into their posterior, I wish to mention here that I frequent the Circle K; almost daily, for my convenience needs. I am not implying that the only clientele that the K has are those mentioned above, any more than I am implying that the only people who frequent Starbucks are top notch cognitively healthy people; they aren't, believe me.

All I am implying, and I hope my subtlety is not lost here, is that the Circle K has become quite an entertaining venue. A place where the natural world can play out its most Darwinistic art for the greater aesthetic good of an evolved society. Go back to a Circle K sometime, you will see what I mean.

Anyhow, this post regards a moment in my life a couple of nights ago when I visited my Circle K. I had gotten the bottle of water that I wanted from the cooler, and had made my way into line. As I was standing there, pretending to mind my own business, I watched a Tucson Fire Department truck pull up directly behind the gas pumps. Now this in itself is no strange occurrence at my Circle K. There are always police and firefighters and EMTs and security guards. So this is nothing new.

Until I began to listen to the conversation of the Circle K associates behind the counter, as they purposefully make no secret any of the stores shenanigans. The lady who was ringing, I'm sure she has a name but I do not know it now nor do I think I ever will, was saying to her comrade that some customer at the gas pump had called the fire department for assistance.

Here the questions come flying into my brain. Why on earth, other that a fire involving toxic fumes, which were nowhere to be seen, would anyone call the fire department out to a Circle K?

Well, fortunately I was able to learn through observation and strategic question asking exactly what happened. Apparently the man who called for help had shoved the gas pump in his truck in a way that would not allow him to retrieve it again. That's right, I said it.

Some dude got a gas nozzle stuck in his pickup truck and had to call the fire department to help him get it out.

I am truly sorry for this man in so many more ways than one. It will take much more than a fire department to help him through life, and sadly I won't be there to witness most of it. But that's alright. At least I have this moment with him. He will forever be remembered, like the mighty Achilles, only in a much different context.