The answer? No. Not at all.
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Yeah, so this is normal, I guess? Midwest America has 8 degrees one day and 74 degrees the next.
The gas line became an eight-block long small town that took on a life of its own. ‘I’m in six hours when I see a guy storm to the passenger window of the car two cars in front of me,’ Califano said. ‘He reaches in, smacking the woman passenger, trying to drag her out the window. I’m ready to grab him, but he’s screaming at the driver to mind his business, that she’s his wife! The driver spins the wheel and burns rubber outta there with the wife half-hanging outta the window and her husband chasing after the car down Bath Ave. I gain one car length in six hours.’
At 11:30 p.m. Califano ordered pizza and sodas from Spumoni Gardens, eating with new pals on line. Others eat Chinese takeout, McDonald’s and food delivered from home. He watches a young guy buy a cute twentysomething blond a coffee and a doughnut. She invites him to sit in her car. ‘One guy busts his wife cheatin’ and now a Dunkin’ Donuts romance is starting on the eight-block gas line,’ Califano said.
About 2 a.m. four wanna-be toughs nosed into a 4-foot space a driver left for a crosswalk. Gas-liners honked and cursed. The line-jumping driver gave them the finger. ‘And 20 guys converge on the car, kicking the quarter panels, banging on the windows. The driver squealed away. No cops. They only come when the gas comes. But there was no gas yet.’
Another motorist tried jumping the line around 4 a.m. ‘Two guys in a small Honda,’ said Califano. “’A tough neighborhood chick jumps out and flings her leather jacket and kicks the driver’s door. ‘Me and you right now, mother———,’ she screamed.’
The driver spun away.
— The story of Ronnie Califano who, in the rough aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, waited 30 hours for gas when hearing a shipment was coming to Brooklyn… he ended up not getting gas from the station, but from another New Yorker. (NY Daily News)