The Power of Being a Girl

Yesterday morning I woke up and had two photo sessions. One at 8am at NC State in Raleigh, and another one at 10am in Durham. I knew it was going to be tight getting from one session to another, and then when my gas light went on during my drive from Raleigh to Durham I thought for sure I was going to be late. I made it to Durham and then realized I had 20 minutes so I decided I would run to the gas station, fill up, and then head back over to Duke Campus where I was taking the pictures.

When I got to the gas station I was clearly in a hurry so I started filling the tank, locked the nozzle and then sat in the car while it filled up and scrolled through the pictures from my last session on my camera. This is where I became an idiot. The guy at the pumped next to me had finished, so his pump made that thunk sound like it had just finished topping off. Thinking it was my pump I ran out of the car and just pulled the nozzle straight out without even thinking twice. The nozzle was still in the locked position and was going crazy and spraying gas ALL OVER me, the gar, and the area around me. After a couple seconds I got it to shut off, I finished filling my tank, and then panicked.

We've all seen those stories on the news right? Where there is some freak accident and then all of a sudden a gas station blows up? Naturally I thought this was going to be me. So I went into the gas station and told the cashier what had happened and asked if he thought starting my car with all the splattered gas was going to start a fire or anything. He told me I was fine (but really he was an NC gas station hillbilly so I don't know if he even knew what he was talking about), so I went back to my car, prayed I wouldn't die, and blow everyone else up (naturally), and then started my car, and nothing happened. Well, I mean, the car started, but nothing exploded.

So now smelling like a gas station I hop in our car, and head over to my session and explain to the poor mother that was there why I smelt like gas, took the pictures, and then drove home, still stinking. Derek was so mad when he realized how bad the car wreaked of gas and started calling places to get the interior of the car detailed and no one would give him an appointment for yesterday.

Finally getting to the point of the power of being a girl I promise. So Derek went outside to try to air the car out, and I called the first place on the list of detailing places and just batted my eye lashes (figuratively of course since it is a phone call), and told the people that I had been sprayed with gasoline and our car now stinks (yes, the person did think someone sprayed me with gas in attempt to kill me, and pleaded to know if I was ok, and then I had to tell them I'm fine, I just need to learn how to use a gas pump...) Anyways, they felt so bad for me they told me to bring the car right in no problem. Derek came back inside 2 minutes later and I told him he was set to bring the car in and was bewildered since he had already called them 10 minutes before. So long story short, people like helping girls more than guys. I'm almost positive. Sorry Derek.

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