A Day I Will Never Forget
It is no secret. I am in my forty’s. I’ve lived in the south all of my life, so maybe I have lived a little more sheltered life than some. I grew up helping my family with their business. It was just a small service station and garage. Because of those years spent helping out, I think that I tend to have a different perspective on growing up southern than many of my former classmates. Some days were more memorable than others. 
First and foremost to me was the fact that I actually had to help out. I had to help stock shelves, work the register, and even pump gas. Yes, I pumped gas. The service station was a full service gas station, so if I was the only one available, I was expected to pitch in and pump gas. The looks on some of these big burly southern men’s faces when a little young girl walked out and pumped their gas was definitely worth it.
I pumped more gallons of gas than I ever care to admit to pumping. Throughout all of that time, I only had one “accident” to happen. I was actually pumping gas for the man that owned the company we bought our gas from. He had a “new” vehicle and I discovered very quickly that it had a setup that did not allow you to pump gas into it very quickly. Pumping quickly was a requirement for a full service gas station. There were always other things that needed to be done, so you had to complete each task quickly.
When his car proceeded to spit up gas all over me, I decided that I did not like his new vehicle. The gasoline quickly went all over my clothing, hair, and face. As a young girl, I reacted much like you would expect me to, I screamed. I continued to scream even when I was lifted up and jostled as someone ran with me. I had my eyes squeezed shut and did not dare to open them. I had tried that already. It hurt too much.
As the cool water from the outside faucet was splashed onto my face, I was forced to quit screaming. Water mixed with gasoline does not taste good! Yes, they were telling me to stop screaming and close my mouth. They even told me to hold my breath. I didn’t listen. I just wanted the burning to stop and could not concentrate enough to stop screaming. The water in the mouth did the trick though.
Slowly, I was able to let their words gradually reach my brain. I heard them tell me to open my eyes. I vaguely remember starting to scream no at the top of my lungs. As I was turned upside down with my face put directly under the flow of water, I had no choice but to close my mouth and listen. Slowly it sunk in that they were telling me to open my eyes so that they could flush the gasoline out of them.
Eventually, I did quit screaming. My eyes did return to normal without pain in a few days. I was even back to pumping gas. My lesson was learned though. From that day forward, I stood to the side as I was pumping gas. I also started taking my time. I pumped a little more slowly. So someone had to wait a few minutes. They would have to wait even longer if I got gasoline in my eyes again!