scariness and scarediness

i don't like it when the gas light goes on, and i don't like playing the "how much further can i drive without running out of gas" game after it does come on. i really, really, really never ever ever want to run out of gas. the idea itself makes me anxious. that's why i like the feature in my car that tells me how many more miles i can go before truly running out.

so tonight. when treating friends to a celebratory night out, i figure one ought to do the driving oneself. besides, it just makes sense strategically. i'm running slightly late, though, because the stupid weather made me change my plans regarding what to wear, so i have no time to get gas. well, i usually have 32 miles to go when the light goes on, so i should be fine, right?

so we go out, a good time is had by all, or at least most, or at least me, but after dropping off my last friend at about 2230 i am confronted with the fact that my needle is below E. very well. how many miles now?

distance to empty: **

oh crap. there's so little gas it can't even calculate.

very well. i'll get gas after dark (don't tell my mother). i pull into the nearest gas station, which happens to be, well, less than reputable for safety. i look at the various shady characters hanging around the pumps. i note how the pumps are shrouded in darkness. i look at the grime, the broken glass, and note that all the squeegees are missing. i consider the wisdom of getting gas here. it is a choice between being frightened of the shady location and being frightened of running out of gas. i decide it'd be worse to run out of gas in a shady location, so i look each shady character directly in the eye. they are uninterested in my presence. very well.

i climb out of my ride so fly and feel self-conscious in my symphony-attending garb. i put my credit card in the pump. "see cashier to prepay." dangit. it's that sketchy, huh. so i try to enter the convenience store to pay the cashier. the door is locked. "you have to do it through here," says an ambiguously-gendered, tall, thin person in tattered clothing, pointing at the little window. geez, it's so sketchy they keep the cashier in a little box of bullet proof glass? i get in line. the cashier is fumbling around in piles of cigarette packages, completely ignoring the line. the tall thin woman (i decided it was a woman) with the unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth hits me up for money for a bus ride. i turn my wallet upside down indicating a lack of cash, to which she mumbles something unintelligble. i wait for another fifteen seconds, and then decide the cashier will never get to me and i really must leave.

so now i'm driving down the k-way, and i've succeded in putting myself in both scary scenarios. i dealt with the scary gas station, and still i'm in my car scared that i might run out of gas at any minute, possibly leaving me stranded in a scary place.

actually, i wasn't really scared, because i refused to let myself get scared. i was more— anxious, i guess.

so here's the question. is it that these situations are scary, or am i just that scaredy?

(in case you need closure, there was a gas station about 0.3 miles down the road, of the same gas company. it was clean and well-lit, and "pay at the pump" worked there. makes no sense. i filled up, and the only injury inflicted upon me was the pain of filling up on gas that cost $3.01 per gallon, which was actually less than what they were charging at the scary gas station.)