A PSA for the Jersey crowd
On Thursday night, I had the great good fortune to join Minnams at a screeing of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants movie (thank you, Minnams, for introducing me to the books, and for your fab connections, and for inviting me to join you!). The screening took place outside of Philadelphia, and we were a little anxious about getting there in time to get a seat, because they send out more passes than the theater can hold, so I didn't even stop for gas on the way. We made it in plenty of time, and both of us really liked the movie (what is up with People magazine giving it only 2-and-a-half stars?!), and the environment was just surreal and hilarious and bizarre and fun.
So on the long ride home, as I'm driving down 95 and yammering with Shari on my cell phone, my gas light went on. No worries -- I found an exit with both a Mobil and a Shell, and the Mobil was 24 hours. So I drove in, and pulled up to a pump, and waited for the attendant to come out, but he appeared to be doubling as the cashier in the convenience store part, and I was sick of waiting, so I figured I'd try the Shell station, reasoning that because it hadn't been advertised on the the exit ramp as 24 hours, but was still open, it'd probably be cheaper than the $2.23 per gallon that the Mobil was charging.
Shari was still being a sport, staying on the line as I went in the other direction to the Shell station, which was indeed open (and indeed much cheaper than the Mobil). Again, I pulled up to the pump, waited a couple of minutes, and finally said to Shari,
"God, why is no one helping me?! It's 10:45 at night, I have no gas, I'm going to be stranded in Pennsyl...CRAP! Shari, I'm in Pennsylvania. God, I'm an idiot."
Because, you know, in Pennsylvania -- like every other state except Jersey -- gas stations are actually self-serve. And I hate that NJ is full-service only, precisely because you have to sit in your car waiting for someone to saunter over after he's finished making a phone call or getting someone else cigarettes or doing whatever else, and by the time you actually say "10 bucks of regular, please" you couldn't filled the car up yourself and been back on the road.
And so, as the summer travel season begins, remember, my fellow Jerseyans, that you're allowed -- and expected -- to pump your own gas when you're outside of the great Garden State. And for you non-natives who travel to Jersey, remember NOT to get out of the car and fill your own tank, because the attendant will be right with you. But you might want to bring a book or something while you wait.
So on the long ride home, as I'm driving down 95 and yammering with Shari on my cell phone, my gas light went on. No worries -- I found an exit with both a Mobil and a Shell, and the Mobil was 24 hours. So I drove in, and pulled up to a pump, and waited for the attendant to come out, but he appeared to be doubling as the cashier in the convenience store part, and I was sick of waiting, so I figured I'd try the Shell station, reasoning that because it hadn't been advertised on the the exit ramp as 24 hours, but was still open, it'd probably be cheaper than the $2.23 per gallon that the Mobil was charging.
Shari was still being a sport, staying on the line as I went in the other direction to the Shell station, which was indeed open (and indeed much cheaper than the Mobil). Again, I pulled up to the pump, waited a couple of minutes, and finally said to Shari,
"God, why is no one helping me?! It's 10:45 at night, I have no gas, I'm going to be stranded in Pennsyl...CRAP! Shari, I'm in Pennsylvania. God, I'm an idiot."
Because, you know, in Pennsylvania -- like every other state except Jersey -- gas stations are actually self-serve. And I hate that NJ is full-service only, precisely because you have to sit in your car waiting for someone to saunter over after he's finished making a phone call or getting someone else cigarettes or doing whatever else, and by the time you actually say "10 bucks of regular, please" you couldn't filled the car up yourself and been back on the road.
And so, as the summer travel season begins, remember, my fellow Jerseyans, that you're allowed -- and expected -- to pump your own gas when you're outside of the great Garden State. And for you non-natives who travel to Jersey, remember NOT to get out of the car and fill your own tank, because the attendant will be right with you. But you might want to bring a book or something while you wait.
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