(This is a travel and content week, folks, so posts will be short and pithy. I’ll have some good stuff for you in 2021, and a website re-design is on the way.)

I knew my plan had failed.

I was driving my son and his friends home from the airport, and my mission had been to return the rental car with a bone-dry tank. But when I felt that tell-tale empty thunk of the gas tank, I knew Robert Burns was right- the best laid plans of mice and men are bound to fuck up. I knew the kids were anxious to get home after a two month stay in Hawaii, but I didn’t want to run out of gas on the Atlantic City Expressway. I broke it to them.

“I have to stop at this Wawa really quick, I’m sorry. Get anything you want, my treat.”

The truck got very quiet, so I thought they were disgruntled. But when I looked at them in the rearview mirrors, all I saw were beatific smiles. A Wawa run meant they were really home. They came out of Wawa slurping hot chocolate and coffee, happy as pigs-in-shit.

Maybe you have Sheetz. Perhaps QuikTrip? I’ve been to both of those, and neither rival Wawa. Not for food, not for coffee, not for customer service.

I don’t think I have ever stopped at a Wawa and not been received kindly and warmly. Wawa employees treat you like you’re the most important part of their day. I have logged the hours, and I figured I would eventually witness a slip up. I mean, sooner or later some Wawa employee somewhere in the Northeast would eventually act rudely or impatiently, right?

Never. Not once. Not in my experience.

My favorite day was when I pulled in to get gas, and the gas attendant smiled broadly at me through my window and said, “Welcome, thanks for coming in, we’re glad you’re here.”

I mean, who says that?

That guy is local, and still pumping gas at my Wawa (everyone has a Wawa they call “my Wawa.”) One day I pulled in to get gas, and I was with a friend visiting from out-of-state. As I placed my gas order and the attendant took my credit card, my friend turned to me incredulously.

“You don’t have to pump gas in New Jersey?”

The Wawa attendant returned my credit card, looked my friend straight in the eye and said, “Our Jersey girls don’t pump their own gas. They’re all princesses. You from outta town?”

Boom roasted.

So thank you Wawa. Thank you for always being open and warm and inviting. Thank you for feeding our kids in the middle of the night, and for being a place they can go to safely. Thank you for your great coffee, your macaroni-and-cheese, your wraps, your milkshakes, and your warm coffees. For your lottery tickets, and your no-fee ATMs, and your bags of ice. Thank you even for those nasty hot dogs that roll around in that cranker all day. Thank you for being our jewel. We love you.

So you go right ahead and laud the praises of doctors and nurses in 2020. I shun the obvious, so allow me to shine a spotlight on some other of my personal unsung heroes.

My massage therapist: For rubbing with love, using scented oil on my feet, and always looking away in the hallway when bumping into me after my massage. Everyone looks rough after a massage, so awkward eye contact in the hallway after sharing such intimacy is taboo. There you are with glazed eyes and your muscular skeleton gooshy like a scoop of flan, and all of a sudden you’re being issued directions on how to get to the cashier. No words should be spoken after a massage. You should be taken to a decompression chamber, where you can slowly regain consciousness and prepare yourself once again for the outside world. It’s like having gorgeous sex in a candlelit bedroom, then entering a garishly-lit bathroom for a post-coital pee. And then the guy walks in. Look away, gents.

My airport transportation guy: For not talking to me once on the ride to the airport. That’s a first for me.

That Guy Waiting Behind Me to Use My Airport Kiosk: For saying, “I wouldn’t do that” when I paused and hovered my finger over the Priority Seating button. When I turned to face him, he was already shaking his head, and reminded me that spending $34 to board an airplane 30 seconds early was a rip-off. Although he most certainly violated my personal space, he was also right. Thanks, guy.

Captain Doogie Howser: For getting me safely to my destination, despite looking as if his mother picked his pilot costume out of a sale rack at Spirit of Halloween.

Tomorrow: The hidden benefits of locked-down cities