Enjoyed rereading this from your book, Paul. I'm quite familiar with the Austin minimart gas station, especially since it's now the only safe and decent place to buy food. Toyabe Cafe got sunk by COVID and the stories and reviews coming out about the International Cafe are downright horrifying. The daughter told me it's a real shit-show. You know, Paul, when the bar tender walks into the restroom behind a woman, there's evil afoot. So sad. That was an interesting place.
Great article! Thirty years ago, I worked the evening shift at a gas station on the outskirts of Grand Rapids, Michigan. I locked the doors, alone, at 11pm and didn't think twice about stocking coolers, mopping floors, and leaving at midnight. Not sure I'd want to risk my safety doing that in these times. I used to work a "clopen" every Friday night and Saturday morning. You are very correct about how different it is being the clerk stuck behind the counter while you help customers prepare for a day at the beach with their friends or family. It can get very lonely.
Another great piece of writing, Paul, thank you. I've traveled too many times through the desert in the wee hours where the total darkness is pinpricked by a spot of light floating in the distance ahead.. It grows and grows until it is a pool of brightness of eternal flame mesmerizing the lonely moth. Another solitary gas station closed and locked with a harsh prison light left on. I read Exit Culture, thanks again.
Enjoyed rereading this from your book, Paul. I'm quite familiar with the Austin minimart gas station, especially since it's now the only safe and decent place to buy food. Toyabe Cafe got sunk by COVID and the stories and reviews coming out about the International Cafe are downright horrifying. The daughter told me it's a real shit-show. You know, Paul, when the bar tender walks into the restroom behind a woman, there's evil afoot. So sad. That was an interesting place.
Great article! Thirty years ago, I worked the evening shift at a gas station on the outskirts of Grand Rapids, Michigan. I locked the doors, alone, at 11pm and didn't think twice about stocking coolers, mopping floors, and leaving at midnight. Not sure I'd want to risk my safety doing that in these times. I used to work a "clopen" every Friday night and Saturday morning. You are very correct about how different it is being the clerk stuck behind the counter while you help customers prepare for a day at the beach with their friends or family. It can get very lonely.
Love this. Terrific in the choice of words and images.
Another great piece of writing, Paul, thank you. I've traveled too many times through the desert in the wee hours where the total darkness is pinpricked by a spot of light floating in the distance ahead.. It grows and grows until it is a pool of brightness of eternal flame mesmerizing the lonely moth. Another solitary gas station closed and locked with a harsh prison light left on. I read Exit Culture, thanks again.