This hits close to home. I got this feeling last night and I'll repost from my social feed
"I just had a horrifying experience. I don't know if it's karma or paranoia after the other day's event, but I have another Inglewood gas station story to tell. This one is not as funny.
My gas tank had been reading 0 for several miles, so I knew I was down to my reserve gallon of gas. I pulled into an Inglewood gas station a bit passed midnight after a tough poker session. This is not uncommon for me so I didn't feel out of place. I also didn't think I could make it to any other gas station with my reserve fuel.
The strange thing was there was no one there. The adjacent 24hr McDonald's, which usually attracts a car or two even passed midnight, was under construction and there was a fence around the station. The station seemed dimmer than usual.
I open my gas tank when suddenly someone drives up next to me. Initially, I'm glad to see another soul. The car that pulls up is a fairly new VW and I'm expecting a soccer mom to step out. But a man emerged from the car, and a few seconds of watching him and observing his composure sent chills down my spine like I had never felt before.
Suddenly I was intensely aware of my situation. There are a dozen gas pumps and this man chooses the one right beside me. I tried to make eye contact but there was an empty, almost soulless look to him. I tried to size him up but it was hard to tell whether he was packing with his loose sweats. His movement was slow, almost as if he was contemplating something.
I couldn't be completely sure what was going on but it felt unnatural. However, I had already opened my tank, swiped my credit card, and inserted the fuel pump. So I figured I'd just get a few gallons and drive away.
...the fuel pump had other plans for me. For some reason, it decided to pump at a snail's pace. I can hear the gurgling of the hose, as if more air was getting into my tank than gas. It must have taken a whole minute to fill up 1 gallon.
Perhaps it was my heightened paranoia which was causing time to freeze and my spidey senses to tingle. Suddenly, I couldn't avoid seeing the flickering of the overhead lights. The gasoline smell sends an almost nauseating fume into my nose. I could feel my heart pounding against my chest.
At this point, I considered my options. I could try to make a quick getaway. But if I were in imminent danger, I don't think I could put the pump away, close my tank, get in my car, start the engine and get away before he made his move.
I could just run. But if I'm wrong, that would just look plain stupid, and I'm not about to look ridiculous even in my final moments here on earth.
Then I had, at the time, what seemed like an epiphany. I would confront my potential executioner. If he had any ill-intent towards me, it's probably motivated by money. Unfortunately, having come out of a poker session, I'm carrying a stash that would make innocent men consider robbing me . But my thought was I would empty my pockets and wallet except but a couple of dollar bills. I would ask him if he had a smoke (though I don't smoke) and say all I've got left is a couple of bucks which isn't enough for a pack (is it?). I would probably add that I would use the credit card (which I'm using to pump gas) if it wasn't for the fact that my wife (holding up my ring finger) checks all my transactions and I was supposed to have quit months ago. And if he decided to offer me a cig, I'd probably just joke that I shouldn't light up in a gas station for both our sakes. In the moment (which was mere seconds while the gas slowly oozed into my tank), it seemed like it would do the trick: 1) Establish contact first to throw off any plan he might otherwise have, 2) establish common ground through smoking, 3) subtly reveal that I've got no money, 4) fill gaps in stories about credit card and wife with available props, 5) avoid looking like a fool after coughing up a lung inhaling first smoke and threatening to compromise entire story.
...so I was getting ready to make my move, when thankfully, two other cars pull into the station. Without a word, my would-be-executioner cuts off his pump, gets in his car, and drives away.
I could very well be wrong about the situation. But as he drove off, I'm looking at my gas meter and I've put in less than 3 gallons. I don't know how much time that was, but considering this man pulled up to the station after me and suddenly took off as soon as others arrived, even before I could get 3 gallons into my tank, seemed oddly coincidentally."
A lot of my friends are saying I should have just run