Gas Hysteria

If only it was the heat that created a lack of civility among motorists on the night of August 2, 2006. My attempts to repair my computer had come for naught and rather than sit and obsess about the problem all night, I decided that I would go rent a movie. The trip from my house to Blockbuster video takes me past three gas stations. As I drove past the first of three, two things caught my attention: One, the price had dropped from a dollar seventeen per liter in the morning to ninety seven cents per liter. Two, the phalanx of cars lined up, over flowing to the road, all wanting to drink from the cup of slightly less expensive gas. No, there will be no ranting about excessive expense of gas. Furthermore, there will be no conspiracy theories involving the international oil conglomerate price fixing to drive up sales during peak hours. Heeding little attention to the feeding frenzy, I drove on. At the second gas station there was a similar situation. The tableau of oil oligopoly was on public display at the third station as well. I imagine I could have spent the night driving around all of North West London to see similar sights. Like coma patients sluggishly opening their eyes to the world, people would be pulling their H2’s out of the garage for a taste of the sweet sweet nectar of the Texans. In what can only be described as morbid curiosity, I decided to pull into third station after obtaining my movie. Ensuring a safe distance from the lines to the trough, I observed the drivers in their natural environment. There, I witnessed the complete breakdown of civilized behavior and the onset of gas hysteria. What I had perceived to be order while driving past at sixty kilometers per hour, was in fact a Machiavellian scramble for position. There was no clearly defined in and out at the pumps. Nor were motorists using logic to keep to the side of the pump where their gas tank would be most easily accessed. But, as an aside, perhaps I’m asking too much of motorists in pursuit of twenty cents per liter savings to use logic. The three pumps that allowed for six lanes of fueling created a rush to reach the pumps from opposing sides. West and East were converging in the middle and only the swift of gas and break would achieve dominance. Anger became the companion of the slow of foot, as the suffered the smug grins of those swiping their air miles card. Gas attendants, fearing the angry cleat of a soccer mom, cowered inside the station’s convenience store. Those who dared to abstain from a debit or credit payment at the pump were scorned and jeered by those who waited and feared that the price would suddenly spike and their efforts would have been wasted. This culminated in what can only be described as an Orwellian ‘Two minutes of hate’ as a befuddled octogenarian sauntered away from the pump to pay inside and had the gall to make conversation with the attendant. How dare that old bastard be courteous? While it chills me to the bone to think this thought, could George W. Bush and his ‘Bushism’ that Americans are addicted to oil have more than a grain of truth therein. Could it be that we as Canadians are also jonesing at the pumps for a cheep hit on the high octane? Obviously, oil is married to the North American economy and perhaps to the world economy although I would argue on a lesser extent. But what I witnessed last night had nothing to do with commerce and economics hinging on a single commodity. Last night, I saw people, who in other circumstances may have been just as willing to wish somebody a pleasant day, tell their fellow person off and give them the finger for not fueling up fast enough. I bore witness to parents yelling at their children while waiting in line because the children were bored, hot, and sticking to the seats of their astrovans. And, like the donkey that brays for its water, I attended a mass honking of horns which set against the dull noise of passing traffic at Richmond and Fanshawe Park Road created a venerable symphony of the night. Robert A. Heinlien stated that there is a direct correlation between societal decay and the level of courtesy within said society. The more brash and boorish a society, the closer it was to collapse. If what I saw last night is the rule and not the exception then perhaps we are a much more decadent people then any of us are willing to admit. I may yell and carry on about my computer troubles, but I would not go so far as to tell off another person over three dollars in savings on gasoline. GO HYDROGEN FUEL CELLS GO!