I was running late this morning. Still adjusting to the time change I guess. I had to stop at the pharmacy, then at the gym. Not to work out, but to pick up my meals. I was supposed to pick them up yesterday, so I'd already missed this morning's breakfast.
As I was approaching the freeway on-ramp, I noticed my passenger side mirror had been swung forward. This must have happened at the one of my previous stops, as I need this mirror to back out of my condo-assigned pigeon hole at home.
There was no way I was going to get on the freeway with a blind spot big enough to fit pre-Weight Watchers Jennifer Hudson, pre-Subway Jered and pre-Dancing With the Stars Kirstie Alley. So I turned into the gas station just before the ramp and pulled into one of the smoker's spots.
There are really only three things people stop at a gas station for: gas, smokes or a restroom emergency so dire that the one further block to McDonald's is out of the question. People getting gas stop at the pumps while the others park in one of the three spots next to the building.
In the ten seconds it took me to put the Jeep Liberty in park and run around to the passenger side to pop the mirror back into place; a woman pulled in to the spot to the left of me, hopped out of her minivan and ran into the store.
And when I say next to me, I mean two inches next to me.
So there I stood, outside of my running vehicle unable to do a damn thing. All my car doors other than the driver door was locked, and trying to reach the unlock button inside wasn't a possibility. And because my phone was trapped inside, I couldn't let the office know I was running late, play Angry Birds or tweet a smart-assed comment about women drivers.
All I could do was wait, and pray she was buying cigarettes.