Month: September 2019

While I have not been in college for decades, I remember vividly the college days, in particular that my gas tank and refrigerator were usually very close to empty.

And I remember when my folks would visit, and those problems would go away, as parents visiting you at college are oftentimes emergency relief funds.

Such is the case with our daughter. When we come visit, we do as our parents did for us – a run to the grocery store and the gas station.

Sometimes, however, the gas station run takes on a few extra steps. In particular when the car is stranded a few miles from your child’s home, as she ran out of gas.

We were about 45 minutes away from her when she called in a bit of a panic. My wife took the call, and went into usual mom mode, which was calming the situation down.

Oh, did I mention this was on a football gameday just a few hours before a big game? 

My brother-in-law was already in town, so he went ahead of us and got the car secured and brought Allie back to her apartment. When we arrived, I told her to hop in the car with me, and we set off to solve the problem. 

My wife and I had agreed prior to getting there that there was really not going to be any purpose in harping on the issue. As my daughter and I headed out, I told her as such. 

“That said…” I said, causing her to sigh and slump, as she knew a parting mini-lecture was on its way. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you that Starbucks can sometimes wait.”

“Fine,” she said. (I don’t think she was fine.)

We headed off to the nearest gas station. I went in and asked where the gas cans were. The clerk said, “Gas cans?” which to me seems like a really odd question at an actual gas station. It’s not like I came inside and said, “Yes, where do you keep your iguana food?” I was asking for a gas can, which is no doubt no. 2 on the list of containers people use to take away gas, right after actual vehicles.

I was told they did not carry those (or iguana food, I assume). So off to a nearby hardware store. Tick tock. Tick tock.

Then back to the gas station. Then to my daughter’s stranded car, which was parked in a game-day lot, so it was fortunately still there. I put a gallon or so in the tank and started the car. Good to go. With room to spare before gametime.

The next day, we took her car up to the gas station and filled it up. And, of course, we took a trip to the store to remedy the refrigerator situation. Our cart was the most “My Parents Are Visiting” cart you could imagine: Food, a printer, a deck of Uno cards. 

I was happy to be able to come in and do the same thing for my daughter that my parents did for me on multiple occasions. I’m glad she has a full fridge and a full tank of gas. And I am hopeful that she will not gamble on an empty tank again for a Starbucks. In the end, it all ended up well. Except for if we need iguana food. I’ve got nothing there.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike or at www.mikeslife.us.

People. We need to talk. I need you all to listen to me. Hey. Seriously. Hello? You there. Put down your phone. You can’t read this and listen to me. Not you, sir – you’re reading this on your phone so clearly you can keep reading. Obviously I’m not talking to you. You, ma’am. Yes. You. With the paper in your left hand. Put down the phone and just listen to me for a moment.

So, now that I have your complete and undivided attention, please, please, please listen to me: PUT. DOWN. YOUR. PHONES.

No, I am not again chastising imaginary readers (although if my opening resonated with you, perhaps it’s time for some self reflection).

I am talking about in your cars. Keep looking at your phone all you want when you are reading the paper. I don’t care. In fact, stay on your phone most any other time you want. It’s your life. 

Also, quick side note: If restaurants could get cracking on something for me, that would be great. I would like every restaurant to offer signs you can place on your table that read, “FAMILY ON VACATION. THEY’VE HAD LOTS OF FAMILY TIME, INCLUDING BEING STUCK IN A CAR FOR THE LAST FIVE HOURS. YES, THEY’RE ALL ON THEIR PHONES. THEY NEED SOME ALONE TIME. DON’T JUDGE.”

But I have reached my limit with folks using their phones in the car. Look, I get how amazing your phone is. I have one, too. It’s super awesome. And in fact, it’s so awesome it even has the ability to sit idle for multiple stretches of minutes.

I drive to and from work on a couple of rather busy roads. And I am constantly amazed how many people are on their phones. Texting. Flipping through apps. Watching videos. Seriously. Watching actual movies, phone perched on their steering wheel, video just a streamin’ as they barrel along next to me at 50 mph on a crowded morning commute. Perfectly reasonable choice, right?

Look, I am not one for having to make laws for every conceivable thing out there. I get overregulation can be a problem. I don’t want a rule or a law for every little one-off problem. But we live in a world where, on occasion, people have placed signs above urinals that read “DO NOT DRINK OUT OF URINALS.” Do you think that sign got there because one crazy dude took a bet from his idiot friend and drank out of it? No. It did not. It was not a one-off. It had happened enough that some manager had to say to his staff, “Well, I guess we need to put a sign up to make ‘em stop doing it.”

So we sometimes have to make rules because people, well, drink out of urinals. And while that’s not a law, I’m not sure there would be a whole lot of opposition if someone were to put forth such a law because, you know, gross.

But something like the phone? Yeah, it’s gotten out of hand. Or, rather, too much in hand. I was out in Arizona a couple of weeks ago. A few months ago, they enacted a law that basically said, “Yeah, no using your cell phone. Or drinking out of urinals.” OK, maybe they didn’t include the second part. 

But as we were driving along, my son took part in one of his favorite passenger seat games: Count the Texting Drivers. Around our home, it’s, sadly, around a 40-50 percent rate. It’s awful. In Arizona? Yeah, no one. Not a phone in sight. Everyone just driving around, hands on the wheel, eyes on the road. It. Was. Beautiful.

So South Carolina – I implore you – do the same thing. For those of you who think you are fine and you are safe and blah blah blah – tough. Others have ruined it for you. It’s out of control. It needs to be reeled in. And dealt with with an iron fist. South Carolinians, you can do better. But I’m afraid you’re gonna need help on this one. We need a strict law on this. As for other things, I’ll take you at your word that you haven’t been drinking out of the urinal.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, he now lives in Mt. Pleasant. You can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike or at www.mikeslife.us.