These were my thoughts when I set out for an appointment this afternoon, only to witness a panic the likes of which I haven't seen since the last blizard.
Gas, it's gas paranoia.
For those of you who don't know, this fine city was dubbed 'the city too busy to hate' before the Olympics, and precisely what kind of moniker is that to strive to uphold? Well, it's getting nasty at the pump. Apparently a rumor fuled by our Esteemed Governor Sonny Purdue's alleged press conference flew across cell phones today. I heard two different variations on the rumors:
A.) Atlanta only has enough gas for the next 7-10 days.
B.) Atlanta is out of gas until 10 days from now. Pumps are closing at 4 p.m.
Pick your version, but the Johnson Ferry Road Kroger check-out lady summed it up best: They just buggin' out.
I'll say. I tried four different gas stations with lines out into the street--something I would have avoided except that I was on my usual "E" (low-gas-light lit) gas reading. So I had to wait. In the process:
I met a woman who forgot how to pump gas because panic had apparently triggered a state of dissociation or your garden-variety amnesia. I helped her. The pump didn't work until we moved to the Premium hose. She was grateful to have her allotment at $3.19 a gallon.
I got away with 2.99 for the middle hose at my pump (regular unleaded was sold out), which, for down south is about a dollar and a quarter higher than normal.
I was honked at by the impatient (not too busy to hate) drivers who didn't want me to help amnesia woman.
I hadn't witnessed a spectacuar site: an attendant helping people pump gas, making me nostalgic for 1977. Yes, they were out there today keeping the peace and hoping to keep gas looting at a minimum I guess.
I paid my $51. I gave thanks for my car, my gas, my home, my safety, my family, my water, my food, my air conditioning, and all of the other things I take for granted every singe day.
And I liked my fellow Atlantans just a little less than the day before.
She's right. They just buggin' out.
