Susan was riding shotgun when the husband stopped to get gas. She spent the next few minutes observing a drunken citizen saunter up to each patron and attempt to shake them down for change. He serpentined his way throughout the station, accosting everyone he encountered, establishing a 100% failure rate. People looked at him quizzically then shook their heads or held up their hands to convey forget it, pal. Ladies stayed in their cars and shooed him away in a flurry of fingernails. He wasn't a sympathetic character; unsteady, glassy-eyed with a red nose & dirty shirt stretched over a big belly. Susan wondered how a person arranges their life so they end up panhandling drunk in a gas station unable to make a dime.