This morning, in the interest of journalism, I was called to Far North Fort Worth to cover the opening of the Metroplex’ first Buc-ee’s.

You might think that it was unnecessary to report on the opening of a convenience store, but someone had to investigate the difficult issue of how many Beaver Nuggets is enough Beaver Nuggets.

Sure, we could have just ballparked a figure and moved on, but there wasn’t a whole lot of other news today; it’s not like it’s a presidential election year or something.

Loyal Scaiaholics will recall my explanation of how I became familiar with the phrase, “A reporter asks,” so I accepted the responsibility of showing up at a Buc-ee’s before sunrise.

So did, I would learn, a lot of other people. The doors opened at 6, but people started lining up outside a few hours before.

Before the store opened, I talked with the general manager of the store who explained that they’ve got almost 250 people on staff slaving over a piping hot Beaver Nugget cauldron and, I assume, some other duties.

He would tell me how important it was to keep the shelves stocked, especially given the Ft. Worth store’s location across from Texas Motor Speedway. Customers would be coming from across the country on race weekends.

“We are brand new to a lot of people in this area, so it’s important when they step into this store that we make that impact for them,” he said.

Good, good, I thought. Earlier this year, I “checked in” at the Buc-ee’s on the way to Houston and an associate asked me to bring her fudge. That’s how I learned the Beaver Nuggets are just a gateway drug to the hard stuff. That’ll get those NASCAR fans from North Carolina hooked!

In an especially classy move, he had a Beaver Nugget concierge walking around the store with a shopping cart full of the product.

Quick note to that Ball State professor who told me a reporter asks: I’ve won multiple awards for excellence in journalism and risen to a network job, but this was the first time I’ve used the phrase “Beaver Nugget concierge.” Feel free to make that part of your lesson plan: You never stop learning!

The concierge would approach me with the cart at one point and ask if I was going to take some Beaver nuggets home or, maybe, some Beaver Nug-ees.

“What,” I would ask, “Is a ‘Nug-ee?'”

“It’s sort of like a Frito,” she would explain and then, I swear, correct herself. “I mean Cheeto. It’s probably more like a Cheeto. Only with a little more kick.”

The explanation couldn’t have been more clear, but I’m not a fan of Cheetos (or Fritos, for that matter), so I declined. I was, however, issued an extensive shopping list by our morning anchor.

She told me that she had never actually tried a Beaver Nugget and explained that, once again, I swear, she was “giddy with anticipation.” She also said our sports guy likes Buc-ee’s beef jerky.

“Do you know if he likes a particular style?” I texted her.

She explained that he’s not picky, but she had previously brought him Bohemian Style.

So there’s an episode of the first couple hours of the store’s opening where the Buc-ee’s public relations woman and I are combing the jerky shelves looking for the right kind of beef jerky.

I would head away from Buc-ee’s around 8 o’clock. I noticed that people had actually started using the gas pumps. I had my first job as a reporter when gas was going above two dollars a gallon for the first time. That’s when a few filling station owners told me that they’re not fans of expensive gas, either.

No matter how expensive gas is, they make about the same margin, but if people spend more at the pump, they’re less likely to come inside and buy more profitable items like soda or candy.

So tomorrow morning, I’ll head into the station with a sack full of unhealthy goodness. And also a detailed expense report for the company that owns the station.