Riding an Emotional Roller Coaster Through the Gas Station Chicken Store

I'm not a fan of roller coasters. Not even the kiddie version at Silver Dollar City that I rode with young Genius many years ago. Forget Fire in the Hole! I think that ride gave me PTSD. Somebody in the family persuaded me to get on it, saying it wasn't really a roller coaster. LIAR!

Anyhoo... I was not expecting a roller coaster ride when I entered the Gas Station Chicken Store on Tuesday. It was another dreary day, snow covering the parking lot, not many customers. In fact, there was only one guy at the counter when I entered. I wasn't paying any attention as I passed behind him to get to the soda fountain for my magical elixir. Just a local kind of guy, perhaps early 20s, in jeans and a Carhartt jacket, with dark hair and a short beard. He didn't stink. Not that I'm judgmental as I gallop by on my high horse, inhaling the rarefied air with my flaring nostrils.

I ran my 44 oz Diet Coke without incident (YAY, me!), calculating in my head which tickets I could buy with my cashed-in winners. I heard the doorbell thingy ding as the customer left. THEN my attention was drawn to the newest young clerk. He's a nice guy, always friendly.

"OH MY GOSH! This NEVER happens to me!"

I turned to see him patting his cheeks like the Home Alone boy putting on his dad's aftershave. He looked a bit flustered. I wondered if maybe he was having a panic attack or something. WHAT has never happened to him?

"You okay? Did I miss something?"

"No. It's just that NOBODY has ever asked me for my number!"

"Oh. Well. That's surprising. You're a good-looking guy."

"I can't believe it. He just asked for my number!"

"Did you give it to him?"

"Well, YEAH! He says he's going to DM me tonight. Oh, no! I don't remember if I gave him his change!"

"I'm pretty sure that's the last thing on his mind right now. Your register shows two dollars and something."

"Yeah. Maybe not. He said 'Nice tattoo.' I'm pretty good at picking up on things. I didn't get this tattoo to attract attention and say HEY I'M GAY."

[Let the record show that it's a tattoo on his left inner forearm, in the shape of a feather, rainbow-colored. I had commented on it a couple weeks ago, because that was the first time I'd noticed it, and he'd mentioned that his schedule changed, and he couldn't get a tattoo like he'd planned. But turns out this wasn't a new one. It's about 3 inches long, and quite breathtaking. Heh, heh. I'm kidding. It's really a pretty tattoo. Not an anchor or a dancing floozie or a huge tribal thing. For a tattoo, it's tasteful.]

"When I was in high school, I had a best friend who came out to me as gay. We were perfect together. She and I understood each other. I wasn't even sure about myself back then. I was still kind of questioning. We were great together. And then her sophomore year, the bullying was too much for her, and she committed suicide. It broke my heart. When I got this tattoo, I was thinking about it being a feather, and my thoughts lifting up to her in heaven."

"Oh my gosh! That's so sad."

"I miss her a lot. The tattoo is for her. Not to make a statement about myself, to see how people react. But I could tell by the way he was talking about it."

"It must be hard to meet people around here."

"Yeah! They're all GROSS!"

Heh, heh! There I went. From being happy for him getting asked for his number, to almost crying about his old friend, to laughing out loud at his assessment of the dating pool.

The Gas Station Chicken Store roller coaster. Not for those with cardiac issues.