Shell

Okay, so call me an idiot for not remembering to fill up after spending long evenings in the Sunset and have to cross over into the other half of SF by maneuvering through the Castro.
I will never forget why I had to use this Shell. And it was late late during Halloween. I was not really on fumes yet, but my gas meter read ¼ fuel, which meant that by the time I reached the Bay Bridge, a millimeter of it would have already been spent, and then another by the time I hit the Tolls.
Empty. Isolated. And surrounded by illegally parked cars (no doubt party goers and club bystanders) I pumped about $ 5 – 8 worth of gas in hurriedly, while the drunk mêlée came down the sidewalk. A bunch of guys, weaving and stumbling over themselves in their drunken stupor to the next joint.
At other gas stations, I would have taken this as a warning sign. But here in SF and in the Castro, I feel safer here than any other parts of the States.
Other than being pretty empty, it was well lit and always seemed that a pedestrian was walking by. And for the female, this is most encouraging.