I’m Not a Fan of Buc-ee's

Let me get straight to the point. I'm not a fan of Buc-ee's. Yes, I know this will read like sacrilege to many of you and I'm fully prepared for a barrage of hate mail. But I know what I like and don't like, and I pride myself on my honesty. I honestly don't like Buc-ee's. Here's just a few of the reasons why.

Buc-ee's is almost impossible to get into. By my count I’ve visited six or seven Buc-ee's across Lone Star State and not one of them was easy to pull into. Each of these mostly beloved gas stations on steroids was a parking lot of ADHD drivers, angry travelers, and rubbernecking tourists jockeying unsuccessfully for their place at the pump. The reason for this vehicular pinball is easy to explain - poor planning! Costco got it right. Travelers must all drive in the same direction to get gas at the pumps. Extra long hoses at the pumps ensure that it doesn't matter if tank access is on the left, right, or in the rear of the vehicle. Another thing Costco does right is monitor their pumps so drivers can't park and leave. Buc-ee's doesn't do this and as a result I always see that at least one third to one quarter of the cars at the pump are empty. Leaving a car at the pump is not only rude it creates a mess of a traffic issue for all involved. Don’t park at the pump!

Pedestrian traffic inside the store is another problem. Given the massive size of Buc-ee's and the fact that it's now a world-renowned tourist attraction, means that it's always packed to the gills. These often pajama clad gawkers wander about in a stupefied sense of disbelief as they soak up aisle after aisle of diabetes and morbidly obesity inducing snacks, cans, and tubs of carbohydrates. None of these people are quiet mind you. All are caterwauling at the beaver heavy merchandise before them or hollering about the variety of disguised as Texana but made in China knickknacks and tchotchkes. Buc-ee's is louder than most concerts I’ve attended. This volume subsides somewhat as you enter the Coliseum of a bathroom. This is one of the main reasons folks stop at Buc-ee's. Travelers love having the opportunity to empty their bladder and evacuate their bowels in a clean environment while book ended by 60 to 70 people doing the same. I never got the appeal of turning bathroom habits into a group sport but plenty of folks do.

The entrance to the bathroom (and there’s only one way in and one way out) serves as an art gallery. Here paintings and art focused on cowboys, the military, national pride, bluebonnets, and longhorns sit in a hallway that stands halfway between a pungent cloud of the store’s cooking brisket and percolating coffee and the bathroom’s heavy disinfectant. I’ve never seen anyone purchase any of this art but then as all of the aforementioned suggests, I don’t hang around in Buc-ee's any longer than I have to. I’m sure somebody’s buying this stuff. I’m also sure those people have an ugly home. 

I, of course, am not the only person who dislikes Buc-ee's. And I’m certainly not the only travel writer who isn’t a fan of the Walmart of gas stations. Last year, San Antonio based travel writer Jill Robbins wrote an essay in Fodor’s Travel in which she proudly exclaimed, "I hate Buc-ee’s with the fire of a thousand suns." While I don’t hate Buc-ee's quite that much, her reasons for doing so are pretty much the same as mine; the store is a nightmare to navigate, it’s loud, and it’s far too crowded.

Robbins apparently received a ton of hate mail and threats after her article hit the Web. Her hatred of Buc-ee’s made national news and, as a result, brought even more attention to the Texas-based chain that is soon to expand into Georgia, Mississippi, Virginia, Ohio, and Arizona. I doubt I’ll get that much pushback for my public declaration. But I’m willing to take what comes my way because the only thing even more Texan than Buc-ee’s is the belief that a man has to stand up for what he believes.

I don’t like Buc-ee’s!

This piece first appeared in the Fredericksburg Standard.

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Gayne C. Young

If you mixed Ernest Hemingway, Robert Ruark, Hunter S. Thompson, and four shots of tequila in a blender, a "Gayne Young" is what you'd call the drink!

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