Big Apple

There’s a little bit of my father that comes out whenever I find myself in need of gas. Cheaper gas by 1 cent? An easy in and out of the lot? Do they have a restroom? I will drive blocks for these little conveniences even when logic dictates I shouldn’t. There’s some kind of unnameable force that causes the 7 – 11 right across the street to have waiting lines at the pumps while the «Grosse Pomme,» with typically cheaper gas and a convenient in-​out is woefully empty and unloved. Like my father, I also like to champion the underdog.
The «Gran Manzana» has it’s drawbacks. At any urban convenience store, you’re likely to run into a colorful cast of characters both inside and outside. Like moths to a flame, drama is pulled toward anywhere that sells cat food and cigarettes and is open 24 hours. If you stop in the morning on the way into work, you may have to wait for a long line of drunks, both young and old, to buy their Four Loco and Steel Reserve. If you happen to be one of those drunks, you may be disappointed to find a small selection of greasy, hot, ready-​to-​eat foods. You may be pleased, however, to find they have a Polar Beer Cave.
Perhaps my biggest complaint about the place, the thing that they can actually help, is the annoying promotional speaker box attached to each pump. I don’t like my gas pumps talking to me. Particularly if I’ve just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning and am trying to get to work. Does that prevent me from regularly stopping here? No, of course not. Their gas is always cheaper and they have an easy in-​out. I am nothing if not my father’s daughter.