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I could have done without this excitement:
We stopped for gas. Paul thought I paid. I thought Paul paid. No one had paid.
I checked my phone as we were driving down the autobahn and saw a text from Paul, telling me he was finished pumping.
Me: “I didn’t pay for gas?”
Paul: “YOU DIDN’T PAY FOR GAS?”
Me: “you didn’t pay?”
We began driving like maniacs (or people fleeing the scene), frantically searching for a highway exit while keeping an eye out for Polizei.
Found exit. Turned around. Frantically drove while watching for Polizei in new direction. Exited.
I breathlessly inform cashier, in suddenly fluent german, that we’d been at pump 6 and–
Cashier calls over manager–
“…And I thought my husband paid, and he thought I paid…”
Manager picks up paperwork she’s started, brings to register. She’s not happy to see that the back of my US government-issued Esso card is not signed on the back. She checks multiple forms of ID.
I leave. I tell Paul we both need to immediately sign the back of my card. “They looked at the back of your card?”
“WE HADN’T PAID FOR OUR GAS. SHE LOOKED AT EVERYTHING.”
