Is this a "2 stars for the experience because it's Pachuta, MS, (population 245) and 20 years…read morebehind" or a "5 stars for the experience because it's a gas station that time forgot in Pachuta, MS, (population 245)" type review? The 5 stars above indicate which direction I'm going.
As a Mississippi girl, my coming of age experience was defined by stopping in absurd gas stations on the way to state parks or in pursuit of some dream or other my father had. We were well-accustomed to being the only children in the store with shoes, politely asking for the bathroom key, and running around back to wait our turn in the roach hole that was the outdoor restroom. I was used to the single pumps and my father mumbling under his breath about having to move the car to get the cheapest gas. There was always a lecture from my mother before we entered about being polite to the people we ran into and showing how polite we were by not staring. Afterwards, she would tell us that places like this were full of "local color." She meant it.
As a New Orleanean, I know local color when I see it. This gas station was awash with shoeless children, toothless truckers, a one-armed cashier, two silent farmers, a sleeping employee, and a hapless tourist from "way up north." There was the family who communicated with each other by screeching across distances instead of walking, the horrified looking home-health aid who mumbled to herself about "calm before the storm" and one local kid refilling 18 gas cans in the back of his truck.
I also know a gas station that's been untouched since 1993. There were only three small signs that let me know this was 2013 instead of my childhood:
1. The all-caps sign on the door, telling young men to "PULL UP THEIR PANTS OR DO NOT COME IN HERE EXPECTING TO BE SERVED."
2. The candy, which reflected several brand changes that were new.
3. The bathrooms were now located inside the convenience store instead of out back.
There were hand-written little signs around the register, telling people to pay for papers before reading them, make sure they were on the right pump, and not to roll their own cigarettes at the counter. The clerk was complaining non-stop to the employee asleep on the counter about her "boring potatey soup" and how hungry she was. The gas pumps are just one type of gas per pump. Want 87? Too bad you just pulled up to the 93 pump. Gotta pull the car around. There were no credit card swipes on the pumps, either. Gotta walk in and pre-pay, then get the hose from the side of the pump, lift the lever, and actually hold the handle. This is pumping gas from when it was work, not some candy-ass playdate!
Don't go out of your way to come here, no. But the time warp effect means it's a realistic portrait of small-town Southern living circa 1993. If you do stop by, make sure to pick up a copy of the latest jailbreakers newspaper so you can oogle all the mugshots and read the police reports...only $1.
Accessibility notes: steep ramp on curb. High pumps. Medium counter. No Braille signage. Pumps are not accessible and have no call attendant button. Door opens out.
