Early this morning, I stopped at the extremely ghetto gas station near my house to fill my desperately empty gas tank. This gas station possesses a dilapidated, dusty and disgusting convenience store, packed with a collection of hot dogs from the Nixon Administration and locals admiring them.
As someone had inserted chewing gum into the pay station at the actual pump, I was forced to go inside the dreaded convenience store, wading through a sea of people simply standing there, chatting away or reading Mexican porn. As I waited in the appallingly long line, avoiding eye contact and trying not to touch anything, the man in line directly in front of me crouched down on the ground and began rolling up his pant leg.
From within his left sock, he pulled a roll of one dollar bills, carefully counted out three of them, and returned the remaining cash to its secure spot deep inside his “wallet.” Unable to stop myself, I was caught staring.
“I see you found my secret hiding spot.”
“Don’t you tell nobody, now.”
With my friend now at the register, I watched him spend those three dollars on a taquito and a Big Gulp of hot chocolate. The time was 8:07am.
The next time you’re given change at a ghetto gas station, know that the bills you are holding could very well have come from someone’s “secret hiding spot”…