Tuesday, January 28, 2014... 4:30 pm
Cars were moving slowly down the hill to cross the bridge on 459. The car behind me was making me nervous because she was riding too close to me, in my opinion. The Tahoe in front of me started sliding uncontrollably to the right. He was able to stop and slowly head forward again across the bridge. Up ahead, the 18-wheelers were still blocking the road, but there was one small path that weaved through them. Before moving forward, I looked down and noticed a bottle of holy oil in my center console. As I unscrewed the cap, I felt like I was getting buck fever. My heart started racing and I just started putting oil on my car, my steering wheel, my head (which was still pounding), and then replaced the cap and moved forward. I prayed out loud the entire time as I weaved through the trucks and continued at no more than 15mph up another hill on 459. Other drivers seemed upset at my slow pace and began to pass me on the left and right. One car passed me and then proceeded to fish tail all the way down the next hill. Part of me smugly thought, "Hmph, serves you right" and the other part of me started praying that they would regain control.
Traffic on the other side of that mess was completely unclogged for the duration of my 459 experience. I even thought about stopping at Grants Mill and hiking my pee pants up to Church of the Highlands for the night. But, with traffic being opened up, I thought I would surely make it the rest of the way.
I came to a stop on the I-20 exit ramp and immediately regretted my decision to trek on. I had stopped counting mistakes at this point though, so I thought I better just make the best of it. By this point, my phone was blowing up with texts. My small group was continuously checking in with me to see how far I'd traveled since the last time they texted. My childhood best friend, John, had been texting off and on throughout the day. He'd been stranded on I-65 all day, and I later learned that he'd been helping people get home all afternoon. However, the humor that came through his texts did keep me chuckling. You see, John and I have a warped sense of humor... it's just gross... there's really no other word for it. John and my brother once found a dead body in the Alabama River while jet skiing and then acted like it was all in a day's work. Anyway, while I hadn't shared with him the fact that I'd peed on myself yet, he started joking about... well, let's just say he started joking about ways to use excrement and just leave it at that.
My husband called and started becoming anxious as I relayed the latest update on my location. He was stuck downtown with no way of getting home, much less getting to me. There was still hope for me getting home though, as I moved about a car length every 30 minutes or so.
It took about two hours to make it up the exit ramp. My hope was starting to fade. I was too far away from anything to park on the side of the road and walk. Plus, the sun was down and the temperature was dropping. Oh, and my pants were still soaking wet, so there was also the thought of hypothermia. I was wedged on I-20 between two 18-wheelers, with two more in front and back. And... I was starting to get uncomfortable with my ability to hold my bladder again. In my conversation with Michael, upon telling him about my wet seat, he suggested that I should have used one of JM's pull ups that I always keep in my purse. I felt like such an idiot. I could have avoided all of this if I had just remembered the pull ups!!! So, I reached down into my purse, pulled out a pull up, and decided to give it a go...
Tune in tomorrow for Snowpocolypse - Chapter Four
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