Filet O' Fear

Despite the occasional service faux pas, our Couples Retreat last weekend went off without a hitch. And now everybody was headed home, anxious to get things prepared for Harvest Day and grateful for the extra hour that Daylight Standard Time would soon offer.

Lora and I along with our friends, Carl and Angie, were also looking forward to grabbing some seafood from Richmond’s famous Croaker Spot Restaurant. We had talked about it all week. The hole-in-the-wall eatery sits on a moderately busy street corner in one of the country’s oldest black neighborhoods and was once featured on the Food Network. One bite of their signature dish—fried fish and shrimp smothered in onions and red peppers, accompanied by cheese grits, cabbage and sweet corn bread—and you’d understand why the line to get into the restaurant’s brick-front brownstone often circles the block.

The wait to sit and eat was at least an hour (at 2:00 on a Saturday afternoon). So we opted to carry-out and dine at Chez Expeditione’—a.k.a., inside my SUV. Carl waited in line for the food. Angie waited in the car for Carl. Lora and I headed off to find a convenience store to get drinks.

“Make mine a ginger ale. I can’t handle the acidity of Sprite or 7-up.” Carl is such a baby.

After about five minutes I spotted a BP gas station/convenience store. It was one of those tiny ones that sat in between the gas pumps with a door on either side of the store. Perfect. It wasn’t like I was going grocery shopping. I parked the truck at a vacant spot in front of a pump and went inside while Lora waited. As soon as I walked in I saw the refrigerated section. Three diet cokes and a fruit punch (they had no ginger ale), easy enough. I then proceeded to the register. There were now two guys standing in front of the door I had recently entered.

I don’t want to stereotype here, so you can insert your own mental image. Let’s just say, they were very imposing dudes. Young, with thick jackets on—even though it was in the high 60s—and neither of them was smiling. They whispered something to each other and kept looking back at me.

Ok, fine. Sticks and stones. No big deal. Soon I would be safe and sound in my wussy, seafood-loving world.

The guy at the cash register started to ring me up. But he was making eye contact with the two gentlemen at the door. A quick glance back, and I noticed they were making eye contact with him too. All the while, our soft drinks were being scanned and bagged at the speed of paint-drying, or so it seemed.

About this time two other fellas, also of the baser sort, entered the already, way too crowded store. They walked directly to the other door (which I had already planned to use) and stood in front of it.

Now, we had a situation. Classic triangulation. Doors blocked to the left and right. Undetermined allegiance straight ahead. And behind me a dead end of refrigerators, a unisex restroom and racks of beef jerky and bubble gum.

Aw man. This was bad.

It was pretty clear what was getting ready to happen. Ten eyes were looking at me with my trademark church khakis and cotton polo that just screamed, “Mug me and kill me” (or vice-versa).

So I prayed. My eyes were open, but I was praying. God help me! Then I thought about Lora. Could she hear me if I scream? Probably not. Should I just give them the wallet now? Nah. They might think I’m hiding something else. Maybe I should go for my phone. My beautiful one-day-old iPhone 3Gs?!?

God help me!

The first two guys started walking towards me. I should also mention that all of this happened within about thirty seconds. But my recollection is remarkably clear.

Then, a seventh individual entered the store. I didn’t see his or her face. All I know is that this person was not a part of the situation. The four door blockers dispersed immediately, the checkout guy popped into fifth gear, bagging my drinks in one fell swoop, and I was out of there without a receipt.

Kissed my wife as soon as I got back in the truck, well, right after locking the doors. I was notably thankful at that moment for God’s protection. He is so good. There is absolutely nothing to fear with Him on my side.

Ok, but still, I floored it out of the lot.

“Keep me as the apple of the eye, hide me under the shadow of thy wings, From the wicked that oppress me, from my deadly enemies, who compass me about.” Psalms 17:8-9