I've been driving for several miles without seeing a single gas station, as the scenic route starts to become a little too scenic, with all the expansive farms and endless acres of apple orchards.
I take the nearest exit, in order to find something anything. I end up finding a gas —
station at the end of a narrow, dirt road. It's so shabby and derelict to the point that it almost fools me into thinking that it really is abandoned. Nonetheless, with the limited or rather only— —choice at hand, I pull into the gas station. Now I'm not trying to be a prude or anything but this gas station is really run-down; I mean really run-down. There's only one pump in the entire gas station, for crying out loud! And this one pump doesn't take credit cards so I'm going to have to go inside to pay with cash. Gabriel and I both need to take a bathroom break anyway and a little rest will do us some good.
As we enter the store of the gas station, we can't help but notice along the walls are rows of mounted deer, bear, and fox heads, as well as a multifarious assortment of smaller, taxidermic animals. For a moment, we're thinking that we're inside a hunting lodge. But then we remember that we are Asian and Asian people don't do hunting lodges. We continue our way to the bathroom. After we're done, we walk to the front to pick up some potato chips, beef
— jerky, a couple of organic green teas much to our surprise that a run-down, derelict gas station would offer such an esoteric flavor a— SportsIllustrated,and a Maximfor our sexual— I mean literary perusal.—
Gabriel is busy perusing the other magazines so I go up to the register to pay for our stuff. The cashier, himself, is just as run-down and derelict as the gas station. He's wearing a dark-blue, mechanics jumpsuit, heavily stained with motor oil and a multitude of other greasy crap. His stitch-labeled name tag reads Boband I think to myself, He forgot to put Billyin front of it. He really does look like a Billy Bob with his dark tobacco-stained teeth, crooked thickrimmed glasses and a beat-up, red Marlboro cap with a VietnamVetbutton. You can tell that this guy thinks incest is best.
I'm nice to everyone, as far as first introductions go, so I say Hello to the guy, and he “ ”
just looks at me with his strange, beady eyes, not saying a word. For a second there, I think that he may be deaf, but he finally murmurs back with Hello as well. Then he asks, Isn't“ ” “
I look straight at him, unaffected with poise. Isn't there some cousin you should be “
banging?”
Billy Bob starts laughing, as if we're old chums sharing dirty jokes from high school. I guess he doesn't realize that he just got owned.
“See here, Chinaman. I'm just yanking yer chain.”
“First of all, I'm not from China, Billy Bob. It's certainly alright if you want to be racist, since all Americans have the right to believe whatever they want. But at least get your shit straight. Besides, the war's been over for a long time and Charlieain't coming to get you anymore, so no need to attack every slant-eye that you see. Damn it feels good to set him”
straight.
Billy Bob doesn't reply back, obviously because he just got put in his place. I finish paying for our stuff so Gabriel and I head back to the car. I tell him about what just happened and naturally, he gets all fired up.
“Dude. Let's kick his hillbilly ass. That is seriously messed up, Gabriel screams, as”
“we drive onto the highway. Turn back around and I'll revenge Hiroshima on his cracker ass.” “I start snickering at his remark. Come on, man! Turn back around, Gabriel insists effusively.”
I can understand Japanese revenge, but two wrongs don't make a right. Besides, Billy Bob had nothing to do with World War II, and I really don't feel like calling my parents to bail me out of jail, with the explanation that we hadto beat up a gas station attendant. In retrospect, it would have felt pretty damn good to kick that redneck's ass, but ignorant people like him aren't worth the effort.
This incident reminds me of an article that I read in the newspaper a few months ago, about a group of teenage skinheads that spray-painted swastikas on neighborhood cars in the middle of the night. Only they spray-painted the Nazi swastika symbol backwards, which incidentally means the Buddhist symbol for love and compassion! Like I said before, I really have no problems which racists because they have the right to believe whatever they want; they just need to get their shit straight! Hell, I'll even help them spray-paint the Nazi swastika just so I can teach them how to do it right. Ignorant people like Billy Bob are a dime a dozen.
I'm just glad that I don't let stuff like this get to me. In fact, I'm kind of glad it happened; it made me feel glad to be Asian for the first time in a long time. The only thing is that I can't remember if there ever was a time before this.