What the Hell are Beaver Nuggets???

I am disturbed.

Maybe you've heard of Buc-ee's convenience stores. There are several of them in the middle of nowhere along Texas highways. But they will be on your mind hundreds of miles before you reach them. Why would a gas station be on your mind for so long? Because of the bucktoothed beaver billboards that impose themselves on you every few miles along your route. Example: "ONLY 262 MILES TO BUC-EE’S. YOU CAN HOLD IT."

I have been to Buc-ee's in Luling once before, which I just learned covers over 10(!) acres. It was a quick, in-and-out stop months ago on a trip from San Antonio to Louisiana. Saturday morning I was driving from Houston to Dallas. I was in need of some petro and some breakfast. I saw the signs. I stopped.

I don't think I can adequately describe this place, but I will try. It is a freaking carnival. A carnival with necessities. Because clean restrooms are preferable, and I knew they would deliver. (In fact, as I walked through the store, looking at the tile floor, I was thinking that the place might be cleaner than my house. Which is saying a lot since I live with an obsessively clean person.) This place is the size of a truck stop, but no trucks are allowed. And it stays packed. They have everything from Buc-ee's venison jerky to "specialty coffee".

When you walk in this place, you have to pause for a minute, take it in a bit and actually plan your attack. I needed breakfast tacos. So I walked 100 feet across the store to the counter. Under the heat lamp all I saw were egg-laden tacos.
R: "Can you make me something without eggs?"
Lady at the taco counter: "Sure."
R: "Great. Here's what I want."
Lady: "No, no, no."
She pointed behind me. "There's where you order."

It was a fucking kiosk. A fucking KIOSK!!! And there were 6 of them! Apparently, they even have them at the gas pumps so you can order your food while you pump your gas. Taken from their marketing firm's website: "With this kiosk, you have a blurring of the lines between restaurants, gas stations and supermarkets." I don't know who these people are, but the only time I use a kiosk is to check in at the airport.

This was just WAY too much. While I waited for them to be fixed, I headed across to the coffee counter. I had to have more information. I stopped to talk to one of the girls making some sort of old-fashioned sugar coated popcorn. Her name was Lindsey Lou. No lie, that was on her name tag. And when I asked her how she felt about Buc-ee's she replied, in the thickest southern drawl I have EVER heard, "It's a lot for this small town." I could tell I wasn't going to get the answers I was seeking. I ordered my coffee, I grabbed my tacos and headed to the checkout. Maybe this young man would be more help.

R: "What do you think about this Buc-ee's experience? Because I can't quite wrap my head around what is happening here."
Young man: "It is pretty crazy. I was headed to San Antonio not too long ago. I wasn't going to stop at the Buc-ee's in Luling, because I work here. I get enough of this place. But I saw the signs, and I gave in to them."

I felt like I should get the hell out before I drank the kool-aid. As I got on the road, Roger called, and I expressed my thoughts. I asked him for his. "When you plan a trip to Buc-ee's, you know you're fucked." Agreed.

On down the road I went. Cringing a little as I devoured my semi-automatically generated breakfast tacos.