As I walked, I attempted to call and text the few friends I have in the area. Naturally, the only two I could get a hold of were out of town, or a major douche-canoe who said he was too busy to help, respectively. God is funny though, since I received help from two strangers. The first one was a christian lady who picked me up halfway through my walk to the truck stop and took me the rest of the way there. The second came after I discovered that this major truck stop/food place/gas station didn't actually carry gas cans. The attendant told me that there was a grocery store/gas station that he thought carried gas cans and it was only like a mile away. So, after calling and making certain that they actually did, I started off across the parking lot. I quickly realized that the direction led off into the dark country-side and I'd better make damn sure I knew how to get there. I asked a guy filling up his truck where the place was and told him my situation. He was awesome and told me he'd give me a lift. I thought he meant just to the store, but he meant there and back to my car, which was so, so awesome. We got talking about all sorts of things. He was interested in my job and is looking for work himself, so I may end up seeing him again. He was a total stoner, so he'd fit right in with a lot of people there.
Anyway, got the gas can, filled it, rode back to my car, then spent 10 minutes on the phone with my dad trying to figure out how to get the damn thing to actually pour. Some of these new gas cans have these really intricate mechanisms in the nozzle to make sure it doesn't pour until you really want it to, but which is a little difficult to figure out in low light situations. But got it figured out. I immediately drove back to the truck stop, filled up my car, then went home. I felt fine throughout, but afterward I started feeling rather physically and emotionally drained. I was so glad that I had called work when it first occurred and didn't have to go in after all that.