This is a common sight on most street corners in the Atlanta area right now:

Because of Hurricane Ike, oil refineries in Texas were forced to shut down, which in turn has effected the delivery (or should I say, “non-delivery”) of gas to us here in the Southeast. We are having a gas shortage in Atlanta!

Bill and I honestly didn’t think this gas shortage would be as bad as the media said. They usually tend to over-exaggerate and scare the community (example: Y2K…enough said). So neither Bill nor I rushed out to fill our tanks when there was word of a possible shortage. But while I was out and about yesterday, I noticed that NONE of the gas stations in our immediate area had any gas…and the pumps were all shut down. So I called Bill at his office and told him to fill up as soon as he could, no matter the line or the cost. Bill found some gas at a BP about 15 minutes away from the house.

When he got home, I left Bill to watch over Riley while I went out to get gas at the same place Bill did. When I arrived, there was a very long line…which of course I had no choice but to get into. I waited about 10 minutes before getting up to the front of the line…and immediately after arriving in the front, the BP pumps were shut down. I was told this by some lady in an SUV making the “cut it out” hand motion along her neck. They were out of gas! And guess what? My tank was on the mark before E. My palms started to sweat. This is my tell-tale sign that I’m nervous.

I decided to head to a QT about 15 minutes away. Dad had told me earlier in the day that they had gas…but would they have any left at 9:45pm??

When I arrived at the QT, there were long lines going into both entrances of the place…and people were cutting me off to get in front of my car. It was a BATTLEFIELD out there! This was WAR! People were definitely freaking out…and I became one of them. As I pulled into the gas station, my gas light came on…and there were about five cars in front of me in line to hit the pump. I turned off my lights and A/C in hopes of saving gas. All I could think about was running out of gas amid the mass of crazy people. What would happen to me? Would AAA have to come and tow my car? Would THEY have any gas to give me so I could get home? Would the gas-guzzling mob be so angry with me for breaking down and blocking the pumps that they would beat me to a pulp? In a few minutes my Civic and I were on deck at one of the 20 or so pumps, and as I gave the evil eye to the woman filling her mini-van in front of me, I wondered how much gas she was taking for her greedy self. I began to refer to her in my head by some random four to five-letter words. If only I could have half a gallon, I would be fine. Would she take 20 bucks to let me cut in front of her? If I started begging and crying on my hands and knees, would she leave a few drops for me? My mind ran a muck with all kinds of gas-getting trickery.

After what seemed like 6 hours, the mini-van lady finally finished pumping her share of gas and it was my turn. Yessss! I managed to pump an entire tank of gas…all for the low low price of $45. Sweet.