Back and "hunkering down"
Okay. So we left. We drove 50 miles in 10 hours. There were no restroom stops, no gas stations open, no place to stop and eat. Hundreds of cars stalled on the sides of the road, just sitting there out of gas. Everyone was conserving gas by foregoing air conditioning, so there were tshirts and towel hung on everyone's windows. Bumper to bumper 2 mph down I-10. We kept hearing about contra-flow lanes being open, but the lanes just stayed empty for hours. Then, after we'd been going for 6 hours, Steve said, "oh, shit. I don't fucking believe this..."
Contra flow was there--FOR EVERYONE WHO HAD JUST LEAPT ONTO HWY 6 AND I-10. This meant that those of us who had been travelling for hours had to watch as people who had basically just started out buzzed past us at 65 mph. My mother actually cried.
We decided not to leave our a.c. off, simply because of the cats and my mom couldn't deal. We went through 3/4 a tank of gas going 50 miles. Outrageous circumstances. Going 2 mph, we couldn't generate enough rpm's for ac to work well, so as soon as my mom busted out with her taquito from breakfast, I caught a whiff and threw up. Twice. Miserable experience.
The final straw was when mom had to go to the restroom and refused to go outside on the side of the road and let us cover her. She flatly refused and started to sob. Steve decided we needed to turn aroun. We were just about to Columbus (about 1/3 of the way to where we were headed) when he decided to cut down a country road to find a bathroom. We found a restaraunt that was amazingly open, and mom ran in. We then sat for 45 minutes for gas at a teeny little bar with a gas pump and 5 country boys dippin' into cups. They were gas-gauging (10 gallons for "only" $30), but we were desperate.
We made it home in one hour. We were one of maybe 4 cars on our side of the road. The mass exodus was staggering, and even more staggering was that we had attempted--and failed. People want out, but we can't get out. It's fucking ridiculous. The oncoming headlights on the other side of the road, coupled with the utter desolation of being the only ones going into town was overwhelming.
Bottom line. If I had been with friends, I would have pressed on--it would have sucked, but 10 hours in? I would never have turned back. But my parents can't deal with that. And the animals? They were panting. Those cats wouldn't have all made it. I'm frustrated that we didn't make it. I'm frustrated that we could lose power for days and that I'm stuck here. The idea of not being able to reach anyone and see how they are is a scary prospect.
So I'm at my mom and Steve's, on the northwest side--a little higher up and not in a flood plain--we have been filling water bottles and cooking up things to munch on, gathering our resources. There are some neighbors who are staying, and the ones who decided to move on left their keys with the girl across the street. If worse coems to worse, we can wade over to other houses to raid their pantries. They won't mind.
Thanks to those of you who said to be careful. I think either decision--staying or going--would be dangerous at this point. One thing is certain--I have never experienced circumstances on the road like that before. It was like a sci-fi movie, or the end of the world. It was the most surreal experience I've ever had.
Contra flow was there--FOR EVERYONE WHO HAD JUST LEAPT ONTO HWY 6 AND I-10. This meant that those of us who had been travelling for hours had to watch as people who had basically just started out buzzed past us at 65 mph. My mother actually cried.
We decided not to leave our a.c. off, simply because of the cats and my mom couldn't deal. We went through 3/4 a tank of gas going 50 miles. Outrageous circumstances. Going 2 mph, we couldn't generate enough rpm's for ac to work well, so as soon as my mom busted out with her taquito from breakfast, I caught a whiff and threw up. Twice. Miserable experience.
The final straw was when mom had to go to the restroom and refused to go outside on the side of the road and let us cover her. She flatly refused and started to sob. Steve decided we needed to turn aroun. We were just about to Columbus (about 1/3 of the way to where we were headed) when he decided to cut down a country road to find a bathroom. We found a restaraunt that was amazingly open, and mom ran in. We then sat for 45 minutes for gas at a teeny little bar with a gas pump and 5 country boys dippin' into cups. They were gas-gauging (10 gallons for "only" $30), but we were desperate.
We made it home in one hour. We were one of maybe 4 cars on our side of the road. The mass exodus was staggering, and even more staggering was that we had attempted--and failed. People want out, but we can't get out. It's fucking ridiculous. The oncoming headlights on the other side of the road, coupled with the utter desolation of being the only ones going into town was overwhelming.
Bottom line. If I had been with friends, I would have pressed on--it would have sucked, but 10 hours in? I would never have turned back. But my parents can't deal with that. And the animals? They were panting. Those cats wouldn't have all made it. I'm frustrated that we didn't make it. I'm frustrated that we could lose power for days and that I'm stuck here. The idea of not being able to reach anyone and see how they are is a scary prospect.
So I'm at my mom and Steve's, on the northwest side--a little higher up and not in a flood plain--we have been filling water bottles and cooking up things to munch on, gathering our resources. There are some neighbors who are staying, and the ones who decided to move on left their keys with the girl across the street. If worse coems to worse, we can wade over to other houses to raid their pantries. They won't mind.
Thanks to those of you who said to be careful. I think either decision--staying or going--would be dangerous at this point. One thing is certain--I have never experienced circumstances on the road like that before. It was like a sci-fi movie, or the end of the world. It was the most surreal experience I've ever had.