2000-08-27 | 05:02:27

remember that scene in "being john malkovich" when john cusack was hitting on catherine keener at the office? he said some lame pick-up line to her and she ended his sentence with "...and 52 other ways to pick-up women." baha!

pick-up lines.

a dying art? or a necessary art? maybe both. the continuation of the human species is relying in a huge part on pick-up lines.

rhetoric has a refreshing suggestion on the subject. his lyrical take on mating manuevers has my vote.

but as for more traditional approaches, "haven't i seen you somewhere before?" is supposed to be a classic in the man-on-the-make repertoire. as is noticing something about the girl's appearance and commenting on it in a flattering way: "your eyes are so blue, they look like the planet earth from space."

sometimes pick-up lines are written on 3x5 pieces of scratch paper in gas station mini-marts. let me 'splain.

tonight i stopped at chevron for a fill-up. the pump wouldn't take my card. "see cashier" said the screen. i sighed. i like to pay at the pump in a big way. walking over to the cashier's window seems like a big pain in the ass, but i had no choice in the matter.

the cashier looked up as i came around to the door of his glassed-in/mini-mart-adjacent booth. he was an overweight, middle-aged latino man with a thick mustache. he was wearing his blue uniform shirt and his fingernails were thrashed and gnarly.

"yes? how are you?" he asked, brandishing a fairly thick spanish accent.

"fine," i answered.

he grinned. "i can see that," he flirted. ugh. just let me get my gas, i thought. i don't need this.

"the pump won't take my card," i explained, slight annoyance basting my words. "it said 'see cashier.'"

"ah, i'm glad!" he grinned and took my card. as i pushed open the door to go back to the pump, i rolled my eyes to myself. creepy gas cashier. late night. who needs this grease monkey glomming? i dreaded going back in to get my card. but i had to.

he pulled my receipt out of the printer and handed to me with my card and a pen.

"are you frahill?" he asked. i couldn't understand what he was saying. "are you frahill?" he repeated. i still didn't get it. he pressed his lips together and shook his head in mild frustration as he reached for a 3x5 piece of scratch paper.

he began to write a single word in all capital letters:

FRAGILE

he twirled the paper around for me to read and smiled up at me from beneath his heavy eyebrows.

"ah, fra-jill," i pronounced.

"fragile? yes. you seem fragile," he stumbled on the words, but had a sincere look in his eye.

"handle with care?" he ventured, seeing if i got the idea.

"ah, yes," i smiled.

"yes, you look fragile. must handle with care."

he began to motion with his hands in a circular way in front of his chest, as if consulting a crystal ball.

"like a rose," he offered, still motioning and smiling self-consciously. "very beautiful and fragile." he was speaking softly and seemed to be putting a lot of effort into expressing himself.

whoa! creepy gas guy pick-up turns wonderful moment in a fluorescently lit gas station mini-mart. i was being wooed in front of a fritos display. a bit of poetic flair had elevated the moment to something very fragile in itself. i was experiencing a strange sensation. this guy who had been revolting me moments before now seemed to see something in me that men who have known me much longer than two minutes have never noticed. or at least have never commented on, especially in such a tender way. ah, i know. i know. a bored attendent has lots of time to think up pick-up lines to use at the pump, but it didn't feel like that was what was happening anymore. it felt like a tiny human-to-human connection was taking place against all odds. within inches of a plastic tube of slim jims.

"aw, thank you. i really appreciate that," i said, taking my receipt and card. and i really, really did appreciate that. "have a good night."

"because of you, i did," he said. "come back again, ok?"

i grinned and nodded. as i drove away, we waved to each other. silly. simple. incredible. an awkward cash box jockey with a cerveza belly had made my night with his flowery words.

call him il gastino.

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