The "N" word: to be continued
I’m psyched – I’m able to get biodiesel in Anthony, Texas which is in Texas on the line just cross New Mexico and then again in Arlington – B99 too! The first station is run by a pair of white boys that I believe must be gay, although they don’t come out to me. The second is Palestinian owned and run.
The men of both stations are glad to see me, and are anti-war. I talk with Mike, at the 2nd station, for quite awhile. He gives me a 30 cents/gallon discount; the first guys are willing to knock $9 off my bill.
I am hoping to get biodiesel – only B20 tho – in Louisiana and Mississippi but by the time I get to almost mid Louisiana, I need to get more fuel so I’m forced to find a Citco, which I do.
A large, dually truck and a rental truck hauling a trailer are at the only 2 diesel pumps so I wait. There are three pudgy white guys standing around, all of them resembling each other – short hair, short bodies, broad shoulders and pot bellies. One belongs to the truck, the other two are uncle and nephew (supposedly).
They all stare at my truck; I have to wait about 20 feet away but I hear snatches of “never shoulda went into Iraq” and “terrorists” – and I know the conversation they were having has changed with my arrival.
The uncle and nephew pull out and I pull forward to buy the 10 gallons I need to travel another 100 miles or so to biodiesel.
The remaining white guy at the pump asks me how people respond to my message about drones. I am tired, hotter than I like to be, and it has become very muggy since I got to eastern Texas – not weather conducive to pleasantness on my part. So I tell him. Americans are so happy to continue our lives as usual; we really don’t care very much how many other people are dying, and in fact, many Americans think it is not just acceptable but preferable to kill by drone, because we all know how very precious American life is, and how very expendable other people’s lives are.
I don’t know why I feel hostile towards this guy before he even opens his mouth. He has been cordial, non-committal, open but he stares at my breast as if the secret to youth is printed across them. He asks me how far I’m driving tonite. We’re on the west bound side of 20 so he doesn’t know exactly which way I’m heading.
I ask him if he uses biodiesel. He says no because it’s too difficult to get. I’m surprised he even knows the term, but then he tells me he’s a oil man – he’s worked the fields, the office, the rigs.
The men of both stations are glad to see me, and are anti-war. I talk with Mike, at the 2nd station, for quite awhile. He gives me a 30 cents/gallon discount; the first guys are willing to knock $9 off my bill.
I am hoping to get biodiesel – only B20 tho – in Louisiana and Mississippi but by the time I get to almost mid Louisiana, I need to get more fuel so I’m forced to find a Citco, which I do.
A large, dually truck and a rental truck hauling a trailer are at the only 2 diesel pumps so I wait. There are three pudgy white guys standing around, all of them resembling each other – short hair, short bodies, broad shoulders and pot bellies. One belongs to the truck, the other two are uncle and nephew (supposedly).
They all stare at my truck; I have to wait about 20 feet away but I hear snatches of “never shoulda went into Iraq” and “terrorists” – and I know the conversation they were having has changed with my arrival.
The uncle and nephew pull out and I pull forward to buy the 10 gallons I need to travel another 100 miles or so to biodiesel.
The remaining white guy at the pump asks me how people respond to my message about drones. I am tired, hotter than I like to be, and it has become very muggy since I got to eastern Texas – not weather conducive to pleasantness on my part. So I tell him. Americans are so happy to continue our lives as usual; we really don’t care very much how many other people are dying, and in fact, many Americans think it is not just acceptable but preferable to kill by drone, because we all know how very precious American life is, and how very expendable other people’s lives are.
I don’t know why I feel hostile towards this guy before he even opens his mouth. He has been cordial, non-committal, open but he stares at my breast as if the secret to youth is printed across them. He asks me how far I’m driving tonite. We’re on the west bound side of 20 so he doesn’t know exactly which way I’m heading.
I ask him if he uses biodiesel. He says no because it’s too difficult to get. I’m surprised he even knows the term, but then he tells me he’s a oil man – he’s worked the fields, the office, the rigs.
posted by Xan @ 7:58 PM
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