Dad And The Gas Pump

Filling up the car with gas is never fun.  First of all, you have to touch that pump handle which has been touched by millions of people, all of which I have no idea where their hands have been.  I'm a bit of a germ-a-phobe (no clue how to spell that) so you can understand why I fear that handle.  I always need to have a baby wipe or that liquid that kills everything on your hand or something within 5 seconds of putting that pump handle back in its holder.  On a side note, having a kid has done wonders for my germ-a-phobia (again no clue how to spell that).  I mean, I get to carry around a bag with all sorts of cleaning stuff.  Sure I'm probably turning my daughter into a germ-a-phobi-ack (pretty sure I'm making up words and spellings now), but I would rather trend toward cleanliness than the other way of playing in a pile of garbage.  Now if playing in garbage is your thing, then go for it, but I think I would have a heart attack.  You know what else isn't fun about filling up the car with gas?  Looking at the price, but that is beyond my control.  I can at least wear rubber gloves covered in purell to get past the pump handle.

Alright after that long detour back to the story.  Despite the constant battle in my mind about that pump handle, the family car needed fuel desperately.  On my way to work, I stopped at the gas station on the corner to fill up.  This fill up started like any other normal fill up.  The problem this day was that it didn't stay normal.  In fact, it turned into a scene from some sort of horror movie!

I was standing at the pump, and of course the little metal holder that is supposed to make it so I didn't have to hold that pump handle for an extended period of time was broken.  So there I stand, thinking about all the disgusting things a person may have done before handling this handle I now hold, when I notice out of the corner of my eye a giant black something flying about 10 feet behind me and about 20 feet up in the air.  I turn to see what it is, when the flying monster dive bombs toward me.  I immediately try to dodge, but I was too late.  The bird of death landed on my head.  I proceeded to do what any logical person would do when a giant rat with wings lands on you and started doing some kind of horrible dance with my arms flailing all around.  With one of my random flails I hit the bird off my head.  Praying this would end the birds obsession with destroying me, I turned my back to my defeated opponent.  I seriously underestimated the hatred this bird held in its heart for me.  It came at me again and landed on my back.  I then did my best break dancing move leaning back then dropping down and swatting the bird again.  I then made a move to dive under the car, but the bird had flown up and notice the guy at the pump across from me.  The devil bird then tried to dive bomb that guy but missed (obviously it was mesmerized by my awesome skillz at dance) and then flew up into some random hole in the overhang at the gas station to obviously begin to plot its next attack on some other non-suspecting soul.

After the monster retreated I picked myself up and looked at the guy across the way.  He asked if I was ok, and I said of course, you see my awesome dancing ability?  Ok, I didn't say that.  I told him I was fine, and asked if he had seen the whole thing?  He said it was the craziest thing he had ever seen, and was glad to have dodged the crazy bird himself.

Not sure what happened that day, perhaps the bird smelled goldfish and animal crackers on me.  Either way it was some kind of horrible adventure I hope never to repeat.  I'm thinking about taking up karate just in case though...