The Coolest Man at the Gas Station

I stop at the gas station to pick up a Diet Pepsi for my girlfriend. There was a line so I’m standing in the open area in front of the counter waiting for my turn to pay. A couple more customers come in and are standing to the side and behind me. I don’t know if you ever feel the self concious need to “look cool” out in public. Maybe it’s just a guy thing. Anyway, I change my stance to where most of my weight is on one leg and I could tap my toe with the other (not that I think that would be cool, but I’m just describing the stand).

I make sure not to stare right at the guy fumbling through what lottery cards and cigarettes to buy and who’s taking forever. I don’t want to seem impatient – cool people aren’t rude and impatient. I pick a spot to look somewhere off to the side – not too far away from the counter, so people know I’m still actively in line and they can’t cut around me, but not too close either so they know I’ve got much deeper things to ponder than a stranger’s lucky lotto pick and menthol lights. Truthfully I’m not looking at anything. I’m the movie producer staring through that little camera lens thingy hanging around his neck. Cool people don’t have to know what those things are called. I’m concentrating on paying attention so I don’t miss it when my turn comes but not blowing my cover that I am actually paying attention to the transaction in front of me. Cool people have no need to eavesdrop.

This goes on for a minute or two. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the lady behind me glance at something and then quickly avert her gaze. She moves away from me a bit and starts shuffling around uncomfortably. Obviously not as cool as me. I looked to where her gaze so quickly averted – and it was the spot my eyes were facing – the spot that I never actually took the time to “see” what I was “looking” at.

It was a large box of brightly colored condoms. Lots of colors. Lots of styles. The kind you’d find in truckstop bathrooms. The kind for big burly men with a dollar twenty-five in quarters and a hottie waiting in the tractor cab. The kind that I’d been “staring” intently at for the past several minutes – completely lost to the world around me.

Oh yeah, there’s nobody quite as cool as me.