A few weeks ago, I started a four-hour drive back from South Dakota on very little sleep after my sister’s wedding. I was feeling drowsy after about an hour on the road, so I stopped to grab some food, which perked me up for about 45 minutes before my eyelids got heavy again.
Knowing I was truly running out of steam, I decided to pull in at a gas station and take a quick nap in my car. This turned out to be a very smart decision, because I had barely reclined my seat before I dropped off into dreamland.
However, when I finally snored myself awake, I had no idea how much time had passed. I wandered groggily into the station, used the restroom, grabbed a drink and a snack, and was starting to feel more refreshed when I got to the counter.
“Hello,” the clerk said.
“Hi,” I replied.
“Will this be all for you?”
There was a long pause.
“Did you catch a little snooze out there?”
Another pause, while I realized that he must have been peering out the window for quite some time at a seemingly unconscious woman tipped back gracelessly in a Chevy Cruze.
“Yeaaaaah . . .” I admitted. “But I don’t know for how long.”
“Oh, it was only about 15 or 20 minutes,” he assured me with a smile.
I couldn’t decide whether it felt creepy or extra safe to have someone watching over me and clocking the time as I slept in public. I’m going to go with extra safe, because that’s really the only feeling you should hope to have toward random men at gas stations.
I guess after a weekend of partying, you could end up with worse things than an unleaded guardian angel.