O Canada, O Convenience

After spending most of the day at the International Team's office in Elmira, I headed home and pulled into an Esso to fill up. Actually, I can't fill up because my Honda Civic has a hole in the gas tank and anything over ten bucks just spills onto the ground. At any rate, I sidled up to the pump and proceeded to get out of the car. With my ATM card ready to insert into the machine, I noticed a man walking my way and coming around the hood of my car. I wondered why he was approaching me and if maybe I should have known who he was. Short moments later, I noticed the Esso emblem and his name embroidered on his shirt and realized that this service station actually provided full service. Fumbling with my words I said, "Oh you're the...you want to...." He just smiled and responded, "That's okay, you go right ahead", and headed back inside the kiosk.

Pulling away with a semi-full tank, I couldn't believe how quickly I've become used to this automated, impersonal society. Gas stations in Bolivia are still full service and some locations are staffed by pretty little things in short skirts, low cut shirts, and high boots. Everything in Canada is automated and super convenient. Parking fees are paid through machines, Walmart offers self-check-out aisles, and all your Christmas shopping can be done on-line and delivered right to your door. If you desire, you could choose to never have another face-to-face human interaction for the rest of your life!

Bolivia may be full of inconveniences, but it's rich with human interaction. Perhaps for some, the thought of less live contact with others is a relief. It means less strife, less friction, and less 'pointless' chit chat. Besides relationships can be messy and potentially painful so why risk the off-chance that a new one might begin?

I know this is the Canada in which I live, but I just sense that something has been lost. It hit me again as I got closer to home and saw the sign for Pete's Garage and Gas. Yellow, unlit, and swinging from a rusty steel pole, it's only companion was a small shop boasting plywood for windows. And I wonder who was Pete and if maybe I should have known who he was.