It’s easy to get annoyed at gas stations.
People can be pushy, rude, and, with gas prices the way they are these days, volatile.
But there is one behavior sometimes witnessed at gas stations that seems to some to be a mere inconvenience that they’re willing to thumb their noses at.
Painted, plastered or otherwise posted on every gas station in the world are the following two words: “No smoking.”
Why? No, gas station attendees and owners aren’t worried about your heath. Lord knows the fumes that emanate from the nozzle are enough to do away with thousands of your precious brain cells if inhaled thoroughly enough.
What they are worried about is the fact that those same fumes are highly explosive.
An explosion anywhere is a bad thing, but an explosion at a gas station is usually nothing short of catastrophic.
So, when I was filling-up my car the other day, it took be aback when a man pulled up next to a pump in front of me, got out, began filling his car and lit a cigarette.
After he placed a stopper in the pump’s handle to keep the gas flowing, he wedged the cigarette between the trunk and rear-quarter panel. As he walked inside to pay for his gas, I locked eyes with him, intending with my glare to communicate the phrase, “Just what the hell are you doing?”
The returned look from the man said something between “You got a problem?” and “What? Is there something in my beard?”
He walked inside. The freshly lit cigarette sat wedged between the two panels, smoke extending skyward in a near perfect line.
For a moment I thought it looked like a stick of incense. Then, as the sound of gas gushing through the pump in my hand reminded me of the volatility of this liquid, it looked more like a time bomb.
Now, the chances of an actual explosion were probably miniscule. Anyone who knows the properties of gas as an accelerant will inform you that gas fumes need a flame to explode and liquid gas doesn’t even ignite. The fire is in the fumes.
But that didn’t exactly allay the anxious feeling I had watching something that was actually on fire placed next to a substance that we use to make explosions in our engines to get us from place to place.
The man came back to his car and placed the nozzle back after he picked up his smoke.
He drove away, a billow of smoke escaping from the driver’s side window after he took a drag.
I went inside to pay and said to the attendant, “Do you believe that guy? He was smoking out there like nothing was wrong with it.”
The man behind the counter told me something about a special chemical spray that was laid down on the entire gas station’s pavement which absorbs any spilled fuel as a way to increase safety.
That’s nice, but what about the fumes, I asked.
“Oh, I’m really sorry about that,” he said. “Some people are really stupid like that.”
Then I got a image in my head of a page in one of those books that detail how people doing stupid things end up ending their lives or maiming themselves, like the guy who lost a hand when he tried trimming his bushes with a lawnmower.
I don’t want anyone’s last moments to be spent at a gas station. They’re not nearly dignified enough.
So, for those who just can’t help but smoke while they’re pumping their gas, please, take a few moments and do some deep breathing exercises, whistle a show tune or roll down your window and listen to the radio.
Light-up as your driving away so you don’t end up potentially lighting-up your innocent, non-smoking gas pumping pals.
Your second-hand smoke is bad enough.
People can be pushy, rude, and, with gas prices the way they are these days, volatile.
But there is one behavior sometimes witnessed at gas stations that seems to some to be a mere inconvenience that they’re willing to thumb their noses at.
Painted, plastered or otherwise posted on every gas station in the world are the following two words: “No smoking.”
Why? No, gas station attendees and owners aren’t worried about your heath. Lord knows the fumes that emanate from the nozzle are enough to do away with thousands of your precious brain cells if inhaled thoroughly enough.
What they are worried about is the fact that those same fumes are highly explosive.
An explosion anywhere is a bad thing, but an explosion at a gas station is usually nothing short of catastrophic.
So, when I was filling-up my car the other day, it took be aback when a man pulled up next to a pump in front of me, got out, began filling his car and lit a cigarette.
After he placed a stopper in the pump’s handle to keep the gas flowing, he wedged the cigarette between the trunk and rear-quarter panel. As he walked inside to pay for his gas, I locked eyes with him, intending with my glare to communicate the phrase, “Just what the hell are you doing?”
The returned look from the man said something between “You got a problem?” and “What? Is there something in my beard?”
He walked inside. The freshly lit cigarette sat wedged between the two panels, smoke extending skyward in a near perfect line.
For a moment I thought it looked like a stick of incense. Then, as the sound of gas gushing through the pump in my hand reminded me of the volatility of this liquid, it looked more like a time bomb.
Now, the chances of an actual explosion were probably miniscule. Anyone who knows the properties of gas as an accelerant will inform you that gas fumes need a flame to explode and liquid gas doesn’t even ignite. The fire is in the fumes.
But that didn’t exactly allay the anxious feeling I had watching something that was actually on fire placed next to a substance that we use to make explosions in our engines to get us from place to place.
The man came back to his car and placed the nozzle back after he picked up his smoke.
He drove away, a billow of smoke escaping from the driver’s side window after he took a drag.
I went inside to pay and said to the attendant, “Do you believe that guy? He was smoking out there like nothing was wrong with it.”
The man behind the counter told me something about a special chemical spray that was laid down on the entire gas station’s pavement which absorbs any spilled fuel as a way to increase safety.
That’s nice, but what about the fumes, I asked.
“Oh, I’m really sorry about that,” he said. “Some people are really stupid like that.”
Then I got a image in my head of a page in one of those books that detail how people doing stupid things end up ending their lives or maiming themselves, like the guy who lost a hand when he tried trimming his bushes with a lawnmower.
I don’t want anyone’s last moments to be spent at a gas station. They’re not nearly dignified enough.
So, for those who just can’t help but smoke while they’re pumping their gas, please, take a few moments and do some deep breathing exercises, whistle a show tune or roll down your window and listen to the radio.
Light-up as your driving away so you don’t end up potentially lighting-up your innocent, non-smoking gas pumping pals.
Your second-hand smoke is bad enough.
