[Magellan]

Here are some of the things said to me. Woman jumps out of the passenger seat of a Caddy at 3am: 'Where the hell can I get some condoms?' Me: 'Uh, 24-hour QFC?' Cue her 'date' looking very happy. Woman looking at me all moony with only a jacket, which is only part way on. Me: 'Uh, your kind of hanging out there.' Her: 'Oh' with no attempt to conceal. Woman in our only bathroom, which I hardly ever let anyone use, thus leading to drunk women peeing on my floor. Her: 'What's this white powder all over the sink?' Me: 'Uh, I was eating donuts...' Guy: 'I left my pen in you bathroom.' Me: 'I'll get it.' Find pen in bathroom, which resembles a dirty needle with heroin residue on it. Me: 'Go bleep yourself!' as I'm dialing 911.

[Quark]

[pimaCanyon]

[sten]

[Magellan]

I pumped gas for Jim Morrison in the 80s. Oh, wait, was that a Stephen King book?

[sarbar]

All I can say is this: The AM/PM at 272cnd St and Hwy 99 at the junction of Kent & Federal Way. A skanky hooker propositioned my husband at 6 amish on a Sunday morning there when we lived in that area. She was a real looker

[Magellan]

I hate being propositioned on the way to church.

[Quark]

O was that you? Sorry, dude.

[Brucester]

A question to the through hikers: Name all the things you've done in a gas station bathroom? #1 wash socks

[BigBrunyon]

Occurred in gold bar

[ale_capone]

Of course it did. The old Texaco is kind of boring though. Mann is where the action is.

[Kim Brown]

[KascadeFlat]

I'll tack a story on to an old thread...why not? Many years ago in college my buddy and I were driving out to meet some friends at a campground somewhere SW of Rainier. Unfortunately the sands of time have erased the particular campground name from memory. We left Seattle after work and arrived in the Rainier environs after dark. Somehow we missed our turn and (I believe) ended up taking 410 towards Cayuse pass. Cue driving until we figured out we were clearly headed in the wrong direction. Around 11:30 pm we pull over at a gas station that was miraculously open and staffed. We went in to inquire about directions and, after the gentleman behind the counter got done laughing at us (he actually did laugh...), he informed us we needed to turn around and backtrack quite a bit. Okay. Fine. We figured as much. But what about a bathroom while we're here? He pointed at a port-a-potty across the poorly lit parking lot. Between us and the port-a-potty were four more gentlemen performing some kind of repairs to their high clearance rig that looked a lot like welding... Alright. So be it. I marched across the parking lot, said hi to the welders, and got my bio break. Then my friend and I got back in the car and argued about whose fault it was that we'd missed the turn. I still wonder what those guys were fixing that night... and how.

[coldrain108]

During most of the 80's I lived in Connecticut (school, job and other less worthy things) and had to drive across the country each summer to get to the mountains (and Grateful Dead shows in Berkeley). We had 3 or 4 cars that ran most of the time, so we would pick the most road worthy one and head west. We spent a lot of time in rest areas repairing our vehicle. As an offering to the Road Gods we would repair other peoples vehicles as well. My '72 Nova made several crossings. This in the time before cell phones. So we had a trunk full of tools. One time I drove across with my wife in a '69 Skylark. We took all the back roads. Somewhere in Colorado we lost a tire, I scrounged one from a used pile at a service station and we hobbled on. Somewhere in Nevada on Highway 50, that one blew out. We were now in the middle of NOWHERE. I whomp-whomped down the road at 10 MPH and finally pulled into the only service station for many, many (many) miles. The place had the right size we needed (good to be driving an older American car). The guy who was working there could have been an extra in The Andy Griffith Show meets National Lampoon Family Vacation. He looked about 100 years old and could barely lift the tires, so I was his assistant. Between the guy moving in super slo-mo and him being the only guy on staff to pump gas, it took about 4 hours to get 2 new tires installed. He didn't even gouge me on the price. I worked graveyard at 7/11 in CT. That prepared me for my next job - security in the psych ward of the local hospital. In one setting the "customers" were locked up in the other they were running free - otherwise not much difference between them. A group of "wise guys" stopped in to have coffee and hardrolls every morning (7/11 on the border with NY). They showed up at 4 am, my security detail. No one screwed with me since they knew I was friendly with the guys driving the big black limos. I worked graveyard at a gas station for a bit. Once I saw a woman come running out of the bar across the street, followed by a big biker looking dude. She came blasting into the station and screamed for me to lock the door - which I did. The big dude was outside screaming that he was gonna kill us, she was sobbing like crazy, I was calling 911. Drunk people are just awesome! Being able to work graveyard made it so I could leave one job and find another almost immediately. It was my super power - No need for sleep. Made it so I had no loans to get my college edumacation. I've weakened in my old age and now need 4 hours per night.