Memories of my first year at SCAD come to mind whenever I visit this gas station. The Chevron on the corner of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard and Oglethorpe Avenue is the place for dorm-trapped, car-less freshman to forage for "food" when the unappetizing Cafe SCAD is closed as usual.
When I was a photography major living at Weston House, I spent a lot of late nights at Bergen Hall. Only two establishments offered something to eat on the path between Weston and Bergen. Chevron and Carlito's Mexican Restaurant. Since I was spending all of my money on archival fiber paper and medium format film, it couldn't always be "taco night."
The Chevron is a standard gas station store. It's cramped and doesn't offer anything very interesting or unusual aside from maybe Bawls Energy Drink, a highly caffeinated Sprite-style beverage that comes in a blue glass bottle. This was a hit with the freshman crowd pulling all-nighters. Everything else is average. Day-old "hunk-a-pizza" slices under heat lamps, every salty snack you shouldn't be eating, and often a long line due to lottery ticket sales. Not much going on, until you step outside.
A convenient set of deck tables and chairs are arranged outside the storefront where some classic late-night Savannah characters like to hang out. That one guy you thought was going to rob you yesterday, a bag lady curbing her methadone craving with some circus peanuts, three old men mumbling at every woman in a ten foot radius.
However, there are some nice people outside the Chevron as well. One night my girlfriend and I saw a golden retriever running free a few blocks from the Chevron on Oglethorpe Ave. We both tried to calm it down and keep it from running in traffic, and it ended up hiding in the bushes in the median outside Oglethorpe House. We stopped a SCAD Security SUV and asked if he would help, only to hear "I don't touch no wild dog." We decided there wasn't much we could do until we got the number for the Humane Society or Save-a-Life, so we headed back to the dorm. We saw a dog barking inside a parked truck while we crossed the Chevron parking lot. The trucker came out and noticed we were looking at his dog. We told him about the dog running loose, and he called his girlfriend who happened to be a volunteer with the Humane Society. So yes, I can say something good did come out of this particular store.
The Chevron is still apparently the place to go for emergency food and/or cigarettes during 11 a.m. class breaks, so I suppose it lives up to its name as a convenience store. If not for its convenient location near Crites and Bergen Halls, I say don't bother coming to this place. Unless you've lost your dog.
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Showing posts with label Gas Station. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gas Station. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Parker's Market
Simply put, Parker's Market on Drayton is a small version of The Fresh Market with a gas pump outside.
This is one of the few places I've ever known where you can buy green pistachio muffins (the greatest baked good I could never successfully create in my own kitchen). This Parker's contains a full-fledged bakery with far more elegant items than a Little Debbie Honey Bun or other such "convenient" dessert. There's a deli with meals you'd find on the menu of most bistros or coffee shops. There's an entire room devoted to beer, which is always a good thing. There are plenty of import beers alongside the usual PBR and malt liquor. They have an impressive variety of gourmet groceries, like lingonberries and organic macaroni and cheese. There's a large selection of emergency Mother's Day gift-type items and things you think are "neat" until you look at the price sticker. Their magazine rack is stocked with plenty of uncommon newsstand finds. They usually have an assortment of flowers perfect for picking up after a fight with your significant other. The cash register even dispenses the correct amount of change directly to a cup, to avoid cashier incompetency.
The downside is pretty obvious as soon as you enter: prices. A six-pack of Newcastle costs about $2.50 over retail. A plain egg salad sandwich, $4.49. That little jar of lingonberry jam is a five-dollar item. Want to not disappoint Mom? It'll cost you. And you'd better start looking for a new significant other if you're on a budget, those flower prices are jacked. What about that sought-after pistachio muffin? It ranks in at a reasonable two dollars. I'm serious.
The Parker Companies define the location on Drayton St. as an "urban gourmet," rather than their usual "convenience store." I guess what they mean by "urban" is you can pump gas at the usual ridiculous price, and by "gourmet;" you can buy nice crap inside at the same rip-off level.
Google Map
This is one of the few places I've ever known where you can buy green pistachio muffins (the greatest baked good I could never successfully create in my own kitchen). This Parker's contains a full-fledged bakery with far more elegant items than a Little Debbie Honey Bun or other such "convenient" dessert. There's a deli with meals you'd find on the menu of most bistros or coffee shops. There's an entire room devoted to beer, which is always a good thing. There are plenty of import beers alongside the usual PBR and malt liquor. They have an impressive variety of gourmet groceries, like lingonberries and organic macaroni and cheese. There's a large selection of emergency Mother's Day gift-type items and things you think are "neat" until you look at the price sticker. Their magazine rack is stocked with plenty of uncommon newsstand finds. They usually have an assortment of flowers perfect for picking up after a fight with your significant other. The cash register even dispenses the correct amount of change directly to a cup, to avoid cashier incompetency.
The downside is pretty obvious as soon as you enter: prices. A six-pack of Newcastle costs about $2.50 over retail. A plain egg salad sandwich, $4.49. That little jar of lingonberry jam is a five-dollar item. Want to not disappoint Mom? It'll cost you. And you'd better start looking for a new significant other if you're on a budget, those flower prices are jacked. What about that sought-after pistachio muffin? It ranks in at a reasonable two dollars. I'm serious.
The Parker Companies define the location on Drayton St. as an "urban gourmet," rather than their usual "convenience store." I guess what they mean by "urban" is you can pump gas at the usual ridiculous price, and by "gourmet;" you can buy nice crap inside at the same rip-off level.
Google Map
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
El Cheapo
In the case of the gas station across the street from my apartment in downtown Savannah, Chris Farley's SNL translation skills hold true. El Cheapo is Spanish for The Cheapo. I suppose the name is a vain attempt at putting an ethnic spin on the idea of a gas station to better sales, but somewhere along the lines of public relations the El Cheapo executives decided they should create their own form of the Spanish language to sound more catchy. Despite the title, the inside of the convenience store on the corner of Duffy and Abercorn Streets lacks any sort of Hispanic charm, or really any charm at all.
The store is a small room comprised of four aisles, a smaller back room, and the checkout counter. The various aisles offer usual gas station edibles like candy bars and potato chips. One of the aisles features a wide selection of potted meats, many of which would be hard to find even in most grocery stores. Jarred, semi-boneless pigs feet in vinegar stood out among the rest. I was surprised to note that unlike most items sitting around in El Cheapo, the pigs feet jars weren't coated in a year's worth of dust. Another aisle conveniently stocks baby toys next to condoms and automotive parts.
Each aisle leads to the rear wall of beer and liquor coolers, standard in most convenience stores. On Sundays, however, this particular shop chooses to lock the cooler doors using broom handles and two-by-fours, "no drinkin on Sunday" etched into the wood.
Somewhat hidden by cardboard stand-ups of half-naked women is the back room, the neighborhood gambling hot spot. Three arcade style electronic slot machines sit in the dark plunking their 8-bit versions of Rat Pack lounge favorites. A few neighborhood grandmas sit here on most weekday afternoons, only with the sorest expressions on their faces. The closest thing to a casino in the Victorian district.
I can admit that El Cheapo saved me when my girlfriend ran out of eggs in the middle of a recipe (and I suppose being able to trust the dairy products there is a plus). The clerks are friendly and remember your face quickly, making ID card fumbling infrequent. The logo, a crudely-rendered donkey kicking at the words "high prices," is a bit of false advertising, but what can you ask for in gas prices these days.
El Cheapo on Abercorn isn't very cheap or ethnic, but it lives up to its name as a "food mart," as long as you're into canned meat or frightening pink cookies called "Uncle Al's Stage Planks."
Google Map
The store is a small room comprised of four aisles, a smaller back room, and the checkout counter. The various aisles offer usual gas station edibles like candy bars and potato chips. One of the aisles features a wide selection of potted meats, many of which would be hard to find even in most grocery stores. Jarred, semi-boneless pigs feet in vinegar stood out among the rest. I was surprised to note that unlike most items sitting around in El Cheapo, the pigs feet jars weren't coated in a year's worth of dust. Another aisle conveniently stocks baby toys next to condoms and automotive parts.
Each aisle leads to the rear wall of beer and liquor coolers, standard in most convenience stores. On Sundays, however, this particular shop chooses to lock the cooler doors using broom handles and two-by-fours, "no drinkin on Sunday" etched into the wood.
Somewhat hidden by cardboard stand-ups of half-naked women is the back room, the neighborhood gambling hot spot. Three arcade style electronic slot machines sit in the dark plunking their 8-bit versions of Rat Pack lounge favorites. A few neighborhood grandmas sit here on most weekday afternoons, only with the sorest expressions on their faces. The closest thing to a casino in the Victorian district.
I can admit that El Cheapo saved me when my girlfriend ran out of eggs in the middle of a recipe (and I suppose being able to trust the dairy products there is a plus). The clerks are friendly and remember your face quickly, making ID card fumbling infrequent. The logo, a crudely-rendered donkey kicking at the words "high prices," is a bit of false advertising, but what can you ask for in gas prices these days.
El Cheapo on Abercorn isn't very cheap or ethnic, but it lives up to its name as a "food mart," as long as you're into canned meat or frightening pink cookies called "Uncle Al's Stage Planks."
Google Map
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