Civilization Died on September 27, 2012

The wait is over. You no longer have to sit around until December 21, 2012. Civilization has already come to an end.

Yes, it’s been coming on for a very long time now, but September 27, 2012, at 11:47 a.m. PST officially marks the precise date and time the death knell rang out for good ole civilization.

 I should have recognized the signs: crazy job, demands at home, backed-up kitchen sink, broken-down van, mid-life existential crisis, printer ink prices, and finally ailing elderly parents.

This particular day wasn’t the ideal day to test my patience. The proverbial straw was already poised to break this camel’s back.

In a rush back to work after a mid-morning meeting with my mom’s attorney, the “low fuel light” flashed on the dash board. Although I’d already missed two work meetings that day, I had to stop for gas.

I prefer ARCO because of its pricing and nothing else. These gas stations are notoriously dirty, surly, crowded and miserable. But they save me upwards of $10 per fill up.

 I pulled into the gas station and got in line. Two cars in front me, both pointed in the same direction, one was pumping, and the other one was inside paying for gas and what looked like Skittles and a Diet Coke. Two more vehicles pulled in behind me. All five of us are lined up like parade floats.

 When the guy in the front finishes and leaves, the unthinkable happens: a giant gas hog of a Mercedes eased its fat, ugly nose into the empty space facing in the opposite direction of the rest of us. Mr. Skittles is trapped! I’m trapped! The entire parade is trapped! All of us must inch back just enough to let him out. I pull up directly in front of the Mercedes and get out, a mad fury grips me.

 “Hey! Heey!” I yell at the Mercedes, “Did you notice we’re all pointed in this direction, and you’re not?” I sweep my hand back toward four cars in a neat row.

“All of us had to get out of the way for the guy in front of me to leave. Did you notice?!? To accommodate you?” I enunciate each word.

His reply is dismissive, “It’s all good.”

“No! Not all good. Not all good at all!” I yell. “Plus you’re very rude.”

Other ARCO patrons have stopped and watch. I finish up, hands shaking, and depart.

 

The barbarians have stormed the gates. And I'm a cranky old lady.