Page 44 of Love in the Stacks
“Buc-ee’s!” I shout. “We have to stop!”
“What?” Adam looks at me incredulously. “We have to stopwhere?”
“Buc-ee’s,” I say again. “I didn’t realize they had them here!”
“What is Buc-ee’s?”
“It’s the best! It’s got huge bathrooms and food and a cute store and cheap gas.”
“So, like a gas station?”
“Well, technically, but it’s so much more than that. They’re from Texas. We used to stop at them all the time when we’d drive to visit my grandma in Houston. We could stop there for lunch!”
“A gas station for lunch?” Adam sounds doubtful.
“You’ll see. Do you trust me?”
He glances sideways at me, and I try to look as earnest as possible. He sighs.
“Fine. Where is it?”
“The billboard said it’s still about twenty miles up the highway. Oooh, I’m so excited! You won’t regret it, Adam, I promise!”
Even as I say this and see Adam smiling and shaking his head at me, I start to second guess.WillAdam like Buc-ee’s? It’s very Texan—big and crowded and loud. It can be overwhelming. Does he like barbecue? I know he tries to eat healthy, so his options may be limited at a super travel center known for its brisket sandwiches, fudge, and sugary “beaver nugget” corn snacks. We’re getting closer; I just saw another billboard advertising the Buc-ee’s exit five miles away.
“Um, actually, Adam, we don’t need to stop at Buc-ee’s if you don’t want to,” I offer tentatively.
Adam’s eyebrows pull together, and he glances over at me. “Why not? You were so excited.”
“I was, but I don’t know. I’m probably being silly. It’s just a gas station.” Even as I say it, I think about the gasps such a statement would elicit from my Texas family and friends. I silently apologize to Buc-ee the Beaver for disparaging his establishment.
Adam reaches over as if to place his hand on top of mine, but then hesitates and pulls back.
“No way,” he says emphatically. “You got me all excited. I have to see this now. I need to experience this Buc-ee’s place for myself. I’m intrigued.”
I hesitate. “I think you’re just being nice.”
“Nicole, honestly, I’ve never seen someone get that excited about a gas station. I need to know why.”
I smile, feeling the buildup of excitement again. “Okay!” I clap my hands. “But we have to take a picture with Buc-ee.”
“Uh, okay, we can do that.” Adam merges over to the far-right lane. “This is the exit up ahead. Hopefully there will be signs saying which way to turn.”
“You won’t need a sign,” I say.
Adam follows the exit off the highway and before he can ask what I mean, he can see for himself. Sprawling off to the right is a large building surrounded by dozens of fuel pumps. A line of cars and trucks stretch from the parking lot, down the street, and out to the main road where vehicles, including ours, wait to turn left into the travel center.
His hands resting on the steering wheel, Adam looks at the gas station, then at me. “Whatisthis place? Are we getting gas or going to Disney World?”
“It’s the Disney World of gas stations,” I answer with a laugh. Adam looks incredulous, and maybe a bit concerned, but I’m done worrying about it. I’m all-in now.
We finally park and make our way to the front entrance. I point to the gleaming bronze statue of a five-foot tall beaver wearing a T-shirt and ball cap, its cartoonish mouth wide open to reveal two buckteeth.
“Picture time!” I remind Adam.
Adam shakes his head and chuckles, still looking a bit stunned. He cooperatively moves to one side of Buc-ee while I stand on the other. I lift my phone and capture a selfie.
As we step away from the statue, a mom pushes four small children in our place and shouts “Smile!”
