Ghetto Gas [11.8.08]

My friends and I decided that we needed a break from our studies, so we decided to venture to The Hearth for a late-night breakfast. On our way home, my friends reminded me that we needed to stop at a gas station because they were out of milk. I obliged and stopped at the first gas station I saw. Thinking that our stop would not last very long, I kept the car running. However, I was always taught that anything could happen, so I locked the doors and headed for the entrance. I jerked the handle to find that it was locked; only after I had yanked on the door did I notice sign that said Doors will be locked between the hours of 12 AM and 4 AM. Please use the box on the side door to buy items. Thank you. I looked back at my friends, who were obviously more perplexed than I was. I told them to wait with my pointer finger, and began my search for the box. Several minutes passed and I could tell that I was getting absolutely nowhere. Out of the blue, the gas station employee knocked on the window and pointed me to the direction of the box - which was NOT located on the side wall, may I add. Anyway, the box worked similarly to that of the older bank boxes. I had to request the item I was interested in purchasing through a microphone. Then, the box shot out like an unexpected jack-in-the-box. Instead of inserting my money into a plastic tube, I had to place it into an old cigar box. The box was sucked back into wall, and all I heard was "We have skim or two percent". I awkwardly requested the skim milk. The box popped out moments later, containing my half-gallon of skim milk and my change. I could not help but stand there and laugh; the entire occurrence was completely outlandish. So there I was, standing there with a half-gallon of skim milk in my hand, laughing harder than I can ever remember - all because of some ghetto hole in the wall.