So I'm on the way home from work a few weeks ago and realize that I don't have any coins for the streetcar. I pop into the nearest gas station to get some change, though the counter guy says
he has no quarter, loonies OR twonies. This seemed like a blatant lie --- what kind of two-bit operation is this? Actually, it doesn't even have two bits, so it's not even worthy of that low status. Between a lack of coins and the ever-shifting rules about the bathroom key, you can never trust a gas station attendant, except for maybe that delightful
Brent Butt.
Anyway, thwarted, I turned to the next person in line, a young woman in a University of Kentucky hat. (Not the most common piece of headgear in Toronto.) She is able to make change for my fiver, except she's a quarter short. Since I'm in a hurry, I tell her no problem and head out.
Fast-forward to a few minutes later, when I'm walking like a regular That Happy Cat towards the nearest streetcar stop. I'm minding my own business when an SUV honks its horn and pulls up alongside me. Instinctively, I put my hand over my pocket and reach for my mace. Not the spray, but rather a giant iron spiked ball on a pole (it's a pain to hide under a jacket, let me tell you). As I'm prepared to lay a medieval smackdown on this possible drive-by, who should it be behind the wheel but Kentucky Hat Girl. She pulled over specifically to give me the final quarter. I thanked her profusely and she drove away into the sunset, like a true hero.
This is just good samaritanism at its finest. I was perfectly set to let that extra quarter go as a tip for providing me with change, but that didn't stop Kentucky Hat Girl. Thumbs up to that stranger for the help, since my broke self needs every penny I can get. Thumbs down, now that I realize it, to that gas station attendant -- he must've had a quarter after all since Kentucky Hat Girl got her change from the same place. What the hell?! He must go to Louisville. I blame Rick Pitino.
Anyway, thwarted, I turned to the next person in line, a young woman in a University of Kentucky hat. (Not the most common piece of headgear in Toronto.) She is able to make change for my fiver, except she's a quarter short. Since I'm in a hurry, I tell her no problem and head out.
Fast-forward to a few minutes later, when I'm walking like a regular That Happy Cat towards the nearest streetcar stop. I'm minding my own business when an SUV honks its horn and pulls up alongside me. Instinctively, I put my hand over my pocket and reach for my mace. Not the spray, but rather a giant iron spiked ball on a pole (it's a pain to hide under a jacket, let me tell you). As I'm prepared to lay a medieval smackdown on this possible drive-by, who should it be behind the wheel but Kentucky Hat Girl. She pulled over specifically to give me the final quarter. I thanked her profusely and she drove away into the sunset, like a true hero.
This is just good samaritanism at its finest. I was perfectly set to let that extra quarter go as a tip for providing me with change, but that didn't stop Kentucky Hat Girl. Thumbs up to that stranger for the help, since my broke self needs every penny I can get. Thumbs down, now that I realize it, to that gas station attendant -- he must've had a quarter after all since Kentucky Hat Girl got her change from the same place. What the hell?! He must go to Louisville. I blame Rick Pitino.
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