(no subject)
Got back today. The rundown:
Thursday
Planned route: 59 to Lufkin, to where we have heard my grandmother is being evacuated. After checking on her, head out of state to find a hotel around Texarkana-ish.
These plans would degrade rapidly.
Left at noon, got gas after looking for 10 mins, the drive was pretty quick around 610 to 59. I distinctly remember thinking, "I'm going to enjoy this trip after all."
*ahem*
We reach 59... nuh uh. I hear on the radio that 59 is not one of the freeways scheduled for contraflow traffic, (though apparently some fucktards decide to make their own, but I digress) so that's not going to get any better. The helpful radio traffic jock then says, "try using 90 east as an alternate up to (some other highway I forget) up to Livingston, that's much faster!" It is now my hope that this person will someday be fatally sodomized by a mule.
(Quick aside, not that my drive was longer than any other route of the city, but, damn it, you do NOT tell people that such-and-such alternate route is fast if, in fact, it moves no quicker than sweat dripping down a sloth's balls.)
So my mom and I (I'm taking lead on this the whole way) are driving down this 'quick' route. 4 hours and half a tank of gas later, and we're still waiting for the turn off to the highway that turns off to the highway that then eventually turns off to the highway towards Lufkin. So we've gone about 12 miles.
WHICH MEANS, boys and girls, for those of you keeping score, that we were managing an average of about 3 miles an hour. This speed will hold for the entire day. Eventually, at 2 in the morning, after 14 hours of driving, and 2 miles outside of Livingston, we call it a night, and pull off on a lil side street. That night I manage 5 hours of sleep in my car's front seat, while a dog chained outside to someone's garage barks on and off the whole time.
Friday
I think I forgot to mention that, at the end of the previous night, my gas needle was touching the E mark. That meant we were stuck in Livingston til gas arrived. Which it did, at a gas station about 2 miles up the road (the traffic cleared overnight). Of course, just because the gas arrived and filled the gas station's tanks didn't mean that the owner of the station wouldn't simply refuse to open the station.
I hope that this person, when the time comes for the traffic jock to receive their just punishment, is the mule's condom.
After 3 hours, the local police decide to commandeer the bitch and ration out 5 gallons of gas to everyone waiting. That's half a tank for me, so we're cruising along, in a pattern of driving to be summarized thusly:
driveToLufkin(unsigned long * time) {
for(time = 0; time <= 6 hours; ) {
// Cool! No traffic, we can go 60!
time += 20 minutes;
// What's that sign say? Bumfuck village, 6 miles ahead huh? Hmm, I see more cars now...
time += 5 minutes;
// Yay. Bumper to bumper, including contraflow... Hello there Mr. EMT-vehicles-that-drive-by-every-5-minutes. Godspeed to you, sir, since he sure as hell doesn't have any to spare for us.
time += 30 minutes;
// Wow, that sure is a huge ass line for gas at the only intersection in this podunk town.
time += 30 minutes;
// Ok, good, traffic clears up a ton 5 feet past that gas station, now we're starting to pick up speed...
time += 5 minutes;
}
// Thank GOD! Traffic is faster now!
time += 60 mins;
goto Lufkin;
}
(Nerd's note: I started the previous in BASIC, until deciding that it was insufficiently timewasting.)
We got to Lufkin. There, MY GOD, there was a Cici's OPEN! Praise to our Father who art in Deep Dish!
This was a friggin oasis. I cannot convey how happy we were to see this place, which, oddly given the several thousand people taking up rest spots in the shopping center and adjacent mall's parking lot... was not that full. Anyways, I have never in my life been so glad to eat Cici's. As we left I heard some ungrateful bitch make a snide comment about "not being worth the money." God, I hope she got into a car wreck and then was hit by a meteor making her remains unidentifiable and thus causing her family longterm uncertainty and suffering. Bitch.
After the Cici's we picked up some supplies at a Kmart. The manager closed it right after we left out of annoyance at the people waiting to get stuff. They didn't seem that bad to me, but then again I hadn't been dealing with it all day. Then we met with my grandma, took care of some things for her that the nurses couldn't given their overload at the time, and left as the front of the storm was nipping at our heels.
By this point I had an eighth of a tank left. No more traffic from here on out, so we're racing, trying to make the border so we can find a hotel somewhere, and grab some gas at the first place on the way.
There are no more places on the way.
My needle's starting to touch the E mark again, so we decide the next gas station, or shelter, is it for us. The shelter comes first, and we pull into it... Alto High School.
Here ends my tale for now. I am tired and be jonesing for some SL time. I realize probably no one is going to read more than the first 3 paragraphs of this. If that. Can you count to 3?
1
2
3
But, um, yeah. If anyone cares and indicates an interest, or if fancy strikes me / the urge to practice writing a bit returns, I will continue. In the meantime, none of you will hear about my escapades with the Alto High School Girl's Soccer Team. Or their panties.
Also, I am sick with a sore throat. Prolly be sick tomorrow, getting worse. No more pickle deep throating marathons for me.
Thursday
Planned route: 59 to Lufkin, to where we have heard my grandmother is being evacuated. After checking on her, head out of state to find a hotel around Texarkana-ish.
These plans would degrade rapidly.
Left at noon, got gas after looking for 10 mins, the drive was pretty quick around 610 to 59. I distinctly remember thinking, "I'm going to enjoy this trip after all."
*ahem*
We reach 59... nuh uh. I hear on the radio that 59 is not one of the freeways scheduled for contraflow traffic, (though apparently some fucktards decide to make their own, but I digress) so that's not going to get any better. The helpful radio traffic jock then says, "try using 90 east as an alternate up to (some other highway I forget) up to Livingston, that's much faster!" It is now my hope that this person will someday be fatally sodomized by a mule.
(Quick aside, not that my drive was longer than any other route of the city, but, damn it, you do NOT tell people that such-and-such alternate route is fast if, in fact, it moves no quicker than sweat dripping down a sloth's balls.)
So my mom and I (I'm taking lead on this the whole way) are driving down this 'quick' route. 4 hours and half a tank of gas later, and we're still waiting for the turn off to the highway that turns off to the highway that then eventually turns off to the highway towards Lufkin. So we've gone about 12 miles.
WHICH MEANS, boys and girls, for those of you keeping score, that we were managing an average of about 3 miles an hour. This speed will hold for the entire day. Eventually, at 2 in the morning, after 14 hours of driving, and 2 miles outside of Livingston, we call it a night, and pull off on a lil side street. That night I manage 5 hours of sleep in my car's front seat, while a dog chained outside to someone's garage barks on and off the whole time.
Friday
I think I forgot to mention that, at the end of the previous night, my gas needle was touching the E mark. That meant we were stuck in Livingston til gas arrived. Which it did, at a gas station about 2 miles up the road (the traffic cleared overnight). Of course, just because the gas arrived and filled the gas station's tanks didn't mean that the owner of the station wouldn't simply refuse to open the station.
I hope that this person, when the time comes for the traffic jock to receive their just punishment, is the mule's condom.
After 3 hours, the local police decide to commandeer the bitch and ration out 5 gallons of gas to everyone waiting. That's half a tank for me, so we're cruising along, in a pattern of driving to be summarized thusly:
driveToLufkin(unsigned long * time) {
for(time = 0; time <= 6 hours; ) {
// Cool! No traffic, we can go 60!
time += 20 minutes;
// What's that sign say? Bumfuck village, 6 miles ahead huh? Hmm, I see more cars now...
time += 5 minutes;
// Yay. Bumper to bumper, including contraflow... Hello there Mr. EMT-vehicles-that-drive-by-every-5-minutes. Godspeed to you, sir, since he sure as hell doesn't have any to spare for us.
time += 30 minutes;
// Wow, that sure is a huge ass line for gas at the only intersection in this podunk town.
time += 30 minutes;
// Ok, good, traffic clears up a ton 5 feet past that gas station, now we're starting to pick up speed...
time += 5 minutes;
}
// Thank GOD! Traffic is faster now!
time += 60 mins;
goto Lufkin;
}
(Nerd's note: I started the previous in BASIC, until deciding that it was insufficiently timewasting.)
We got to Lufkin. There, MY GOD, there was a Cici's OPEN! Praise to our Father who art in Deep Dish!
This was a friggin oasis. I cannot convey how happy we were to see this place, which, oddly given the several thousand people taking up rest spots in the shopping center and adjacent mall's parking lot... was not that full. Anyways, I have never in my life been so glad to eat Cici's. As we left I heard some ungrateful bitch make a snide comment about "not being worth the money." God, I hope she got into a car wreck and then was hit by a meteor making her remains unidentifiable and thus causing her family longterm uncertainty and suffering. Bitch.
After the Cici's we picked up some supplies at a Kmart. The manager closed it right after we left out of annoyance at the people waiting to get stuff. They didn't seem that bad to me, but then again I hadn't been dealing with it all day. Then we met with my grandma, took care of some things for her that the nurses couldn't given their overload at the time, and left as the front of the storm was nipping at our heels.
By this point I had an eighth of a tank left. No more traffic from here on out, so we're racing, trying to make the border so we can find a hotel somewhere, and grab some gas at the first place on the way.
There are no more places on the way.
My needle's starting to touch the E mark again, so we decide the next gas station, or shelter, is it for us. The shelter comes first, and we pull into it... Alto High School.
Here ends my tale for now. I am tired and be jonesing for some SL time. I realize probably no one is going to read more than the first 3 paragraphs of this. If that. Can you count to 3?
1
2
3
But, um, yeah. If anyone cares and indicates an interest, or if fancy strikes me / the urge to practice writing a bit returns, I will continue. In the meantime, none of you will hear about my escapades with the Alto High School Girl's Soccer Team. Or their panties.
Also, I am sick with a sore throat. Prolly be sick tomorrow, getting worse. No more pickle deep throating marathons for me.