Two weeks ago we were at Brenham, TX, for lunch at the Southern Flyer. If you ever get the chance, go to this 50s-themed airport restaurant...
After an enormously unhealthy, marvelous meal, we had to feed Amelia. There was a guy in a very old V-tail Bo at the pumps, so we just sat on one of the restaurant's observation benches to wait.
And wait. And wait. Finally, I decided to pull our little RV into his peripheral vision, so he would know someone was waiting. It made no difference.
Finally I walked up to the plane. They were inside, joking around, seemingly doing a pre-buy inspection. This was hard to believe, given the 95+ degrees on the ramp, but they seemed not to notice. I politely pointed out that we needed gas, too, and could they please push away from the pumps?
Then, the fun began. For whatever reason the guy had parked nose-in at the pumps, rather than parallel, and there's a wee bit of a downhill slope into the pump at Brenham. Mary and I watched from our plane as he struggled mightily to push the old Bo back -- by putting his shoulder under the spinner and straining as hard as he could.
As I was heading across the ramp to lend a push, the other guy finally got out to help, and pushed as hard as he could -- on the cowling. Augh!
That did the trick, and soon these guys were on their way...