Note: I started writing this in a motel room in Georgia after we evacuated Florida due to Hurricane Frances, in September 2004, and finished it at our end destination – Virginia. Since I now have my own website I thought I’d toss this on here. These types of situations may become the norm for people who are living in harm’s way. When we packed up our cars and hit the road, we packed as if we weren’t going back. And we didn’t. So if you’re bored at work, looking for an easy read, then here you go, this is for you. ;) It has cop dodging, road trip adventure, vigilantes, premonition dreams, deja vus, ear ringings, hyperdimensional timeline workings, and all kinds of fun stuff. A warning though for the sensitive types: there is cussing. ;) Just to let you know so you won’t be offended.
At the end is some commentary regarding this post-Katrina world we now all live in….
Leaving Florida
Carissa Conti
September 1 – 2, 2004
We knew a week ago that we would have to leave because of Hurricane Frances. Last Friday we were sitting around in the apartment and I remember looking around and making some offhand comment that we should enjoy it now while it lasts because in a week it’ll probably be gone. Not that the apartment would be destroyed necessarily, but that we would not be living there anymore, and the life that we currently knew would be gone.
People at work seemed to be divided 50/50 as to whether this thing was really going to hit us. A few kept predicting it would veer north at the last minute like so many hurricanes do that are aimed at South Florida. I’m a newbie to South Florida and know nothing about the workings of hurricanes, but I somehow knew intuitively that A) it would hit South Florida, and do so the following Friday / Saturday, (this is documented in my journal, in fact); B) The situation would be serious enough that we would be leaving the area as a result; and C) That it was going to make landfall specifically in West Palm Beach. I just knew all of this, don’t ask me how. It hung over me all week, every time I complained about my job, every time I complained about what I didn’t like about the area. I’d realize right after that “…it’ll all be over soon…you’ll be leaving as a result of this hurricane and you won’t be coming back…”
The clincher came when I realized what the Friday/Saturday date was. Saturday is September 4. It was two years ago (“2 year echo window” for those who are familiar with the work of Goro Adachi) on September 4, 2002 that we had a white owl sighting, of which I took a picture (white owl — Moloch — Illuminati — Labyrinth). It was a little ominous, happening on a night when other synchs and number sightings were happening. We went outside and found it perched on the power line above our cars, just sitting there, watching us. We got a photo. It was cool looking. (after the owl incident we left and got on the highway and saw a white van on fire on the side of the road — keep this fire incident in mind for later.) Everything matching and fitting up and coming together the way it did indicates higher design. Unavoidable destiny and all that good stuff.
As the week wore on, we all watched expectantly as the hurricane stayed on a down low path, due to a high pressure system that had formed which was keeping it from moving northwards. It was on a steady course for the Bahamas, and South Florida.
Hurricane Frances, September 3, 2004
I didn’t go food shopping, and instead made sure to eat what food I already had on hand. I cleaned up my car, anticipating a road trip. And in the middle of all of this, the strange weather was happening. On Sunday August 29, there was a strange lightening storm over my area, brilliant blue white flashes of lightening, a few which were blinding like a camera flash going off in your eyes. There was no rain, and no thunder, just lightening from a source of clouds over my area which moved very slowly, lingering for hours. This was the first incident of its kind during the entire time I’ve lived there. On Tuesday and Wednesday we had been awoken both nights at nearly 3 a.m. on the nose by sudden thunder going off over head. The first time it happened I thought it was a little odd, but went back to sleep. The second night, the thunder just sounded so strange and bizarre that my nerves were standing on end. I had the clear and distinct thought of “…that’s a 4th density ship overhead…” Very certain, matter-of-fact. It did not sound like normal thunder. Very hard to describe. Low, full of booming rolling bass. But there were other elements to the sound that were strange for thunder, but which I can’t pinpoint.
Also by Tuesday and Wednesday Tom and I both found ourselves having deja vus and ear ringings. More signs of “activity.”
When looking at a map of the projected path of Frances, while taking into account its enormous size, (it’s the length of the entire state of Florida, and could easily engulf most of the state if superimposed on it) I pondered where we should go to “outrun” this thing. Where’s the safest place to drive to? I concluded… Alabama. Northwest. Just get on the highway and head as Northwest as you can drive. Mobile, Alabama is the closet Northwest/Alabama city we could easily reach. So Mobile it was, I decided. Frances was going to strike the east coast and most likely move up from there. So head west.
After picking Alabama, I decided to ask Capt. H.A. where he was going to go with his family for the storm. H.A. is a smart guy and if anybody knows marine weather, he would.
“Where are we going to go? Let me tell you…Mobile, Alabama.”
No shit! “Me too!!!” I said.
He confirmed that heading northwest was the way to go.
Only later did I realize the connection between what was unfolding and a premonition dream I’d had two weeks before – before we knew about Frances – which I’d documented in my journal. In the dream, I was looking at a map of the Southeast portion of the U.S. and it was all burning, on fire. I watched as the southeast slowly charred, and the charred area spread downwards, into Florida, heading for South Florida where we live. At the same time, a hurricane was coming up from the South. We were going to be sandwiched between the two, and there was nothing we could do about it. It was what it was, so now it was time to just deal with it. Scene switch to where I was in a building seeking shelter from the hurricane, and a tornado appeared, approaching the building. I watched it through a window, and when it came up to the window, I saw that it was controlled by man “driving” the tornado, like it was a piece of mechanical equipment. I tapped on the glass with my finger and pointed at it thinking “No. You won’t hit me.” And it stopped, turned, and headed off, away. I turned to my right, looking out the other big window and saw the hurricane now approaching. Scene switch and I’m outside, and the hurricane is traveling fast and low overhead. I’m watching it whiz by, yet I’m unaffected by it. Scene switch to where I’m inside another structure which looked like my old house in CT, and I’m in an RV inside this building, and we’re bunking down to brace ourselves for the first big storm surge which is going to hit. And Capt. H.A. from work is there. We know we’ll be hit and there’s nothing we can do but brace ourselves and prep in this RV. The mood was light, but energetic, full of expectancy but without panic. In the dream I know that we’re going to be tossed around, but we’ll make it. It’ll be a little rough, but do-able. When I woke up I wondered why the hell H.A. was in my dream. What did that mean?? It had to mean something. My mind wouldn’t pick him for no good reason.
When H.A. told me he planned to head to Alabama, same as me, and we were the only two people at my work who planned to do this, I knew then what the dream was about. That’s why my subconscious picked him – it was playing out a scenario that was going to happen within two weeks. The subconscious has a funny way of taking an event and then translating it over into dreamtime symbolisms and story plot. ;) Now I just needed to figure out what it meant by the southeast being on fire.
Wednesday at lunch I made sure to get my full tank of gas, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any potential lines at the pumps. Had no problem there. While on my afternoon break I walked over to the ice cream shop across the street to get a mint chip ice cream. An unusual all-white plane that resembled a WWII bomber whipped by overhead, low and fast, swooping in for a turn while tilted to the right. I’d never seen a plane like that before and I stopped to watch it pass overhead, listening to the way it sounded which reminded me so much of a WWII plane.
Some guy asked what that was. I shrugged. He told me, “You look like you’re standing there staring at a flying dragon.”
Interesting choice of words.
The sky was a beautiful clear piercing blue, and the air was hot and breezy. We were already feeling the wind from Frances, which was still over Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic. I froze the scene in my memory. It all looked so beautiful, but it was literally the calm before the storm, and that breeze tacked on which wouldn’t normally be there was ominous. Had an extremely strong deja vu when walking back to work with my ice cream. It stopped me in my path, as I looked about curiously, until it faded out and I continued on my way. Deja vus for me as I’ve since come to realize will often times coincide with major life changes and timeline “fork in the road” switches.
Wednesday evening we went to Discount Auto Parts to get oil for my car, added extra coolant, and went to the Shell on Federal to get air for my tires in preparation for our trip. Wednesday night I began packing. I was up til after 2 a.m. getting things organized and packed up. I didn’t take a shower or eat any dinner, and went to work on five hours of sleep. I would later be surprised at what I managed to pull off with the lack of food and sleep.
I went to work on Thursday only to get my paycheck mostly, because thankfully they were paying us a day early, and closing the office on Friday. Yippee! I would need that paycheck for hitting the road, that’s for sure. Work was scheduled to close early at 12 noon on Thursday anyway, but I planned to try to see about bailing out earlier than that. There was no point to be there, and I still had packing I needed to finish up. I mean, who’s going to come in to look at yachts when the place is boarded up with plywood, most of the boats had been moved to the service yard, and everything else had been stashed away? So I got in, got my check, and was out of there by 9:30 when Linda volunteered to cover the phones til 12, since she wasn’t going to be leaving the area.
Found out as well that they had implemented a mandatory 2 p.m. evacuation orders for all of coastal Broward County. Not good.
Left work and cashed my check at the bank where I was thankful that I didn’t have a bank account, so I didn’t have to worry about taking money out for the road, or hassle with closing out an account. All my money was with me at home. I had made a vow over a year ago that if I was going to leave Florida and relocate somewhere else, then I wouldn’t do it with anything less than $5,000.
I now coincidentally had $5,100 to my name, not counting my next and final paycheck that would have to be mailed to me. So I got my request.
I went to Pet Supermarket to stock up on Kitty’s Nutro pet food. I needed enough to last me til I get to where we move to and get settled in. There was an unusual amount of helicopter activity going on by this point, and it created a creepy feeling, like the military was already monitoring this area and getting involved. Was home by 10:15, and when I got inside I told Tom we needed to get moving and get out of here ASAP, because it was starting to turn into a circus out there. When I went to Pet Supermarket I saw the frantic looking rush at the gas stations already beginning, with lines spilling out into the street. That, coupled with the sudden last minute evacuation orders for 2 p.m., and all the military helicopter activity made me be like, Oh shit, we gotta get out of here, NOW.
We did better than I expected. I was shooting to leave by 3 p.m., and we were ready and pulling out of the parking lot by 1:45. Both of us had our brand new Motorola two way radios that we’d bought at Best Buy not too long ago. We hadn’t planned on buying them, but when we were there Tom saw that they were on sale, and had intuitive nudging that these would be a really handy survivalist sort of item to have. I agreed, like, sure, why not. Seems useful. I was all about the Bug Out Bag too. :D So we bought them. These radios would later be crucial during our evacuation.
Kitty was in Tom’s car, since he’s able to use his A/C and I can’t. It was a baking hot day and there was no way she could be in my car. We decided to take the turnpike, assuming that would be the quickest most direct route out of the state. How wrong we were.
Something felt “off” when we hit the road, but I just attributed that to jitters. Although I’m not the type to get road trip jitters. I’m a road trip junkie, and had actually been really looking forward to leaving Florida all week, to get out and get away and to have a legitimate excuse for it. So I wasn’t sure what was going on with this bad feeling, and despite my best efforts to be excited the little nagging feeling persisted. It turned out that the feeling wasn’t jitters, but intuition.
We were happy to find that the State of Florida had lifted all tolls on the turnpike and were letting everybody through for free in their evacuation efforts. It was smooth sailing for the first 100 miles, til the point between Fort Pierce and Vero Beach. By Vero Beach, traffic had clogged up, and that’s when things took a negative turn.
*****
Hell
What transpired over the next 14 hours was by far, the craziest shit I had ever experienced at the time. It was a surreal nightmare, so crazy that it never quite felt real.
After Vero Beach, traffic edged along at 10 — 20 mph for the next 40 miles. A traffic advisory sign warned “Expect delays for next 88 miles thru Orlando.” There were cars, trucks, trailers, boats and big rigs as far as the eye could see, on a two lane highway that should have been three or four lanes. It was made probably 30 — 40 years ago and no longer accommodated the present population boom. It’s a grossly outdated road and poorly designed and it began infuriating me. They expect millions of people to use this road in an evacuation emergency?? I noticed that some cars were skipping ahead by using the breakdown lane. Good idea, I noted.
As we edged along, slow and go, stop and go, eventually my car wanted to start to overheat on me. I radioed Tom on our new handy dandy Motorola two-way radios and we both pulled off the road. (It was a really good thing we had bought these, because I don’t know how we would have managed otherwise considering we were in separate cars without cell phones. There was a lot of crucial, spur of the moment planning and maneuvering that took place which not only kept us together on the road and in synch, but got us out of the state. But it couldn’t have been accomplished without a way to communicate.) I was pissed and frustrated. The fan had just been replaced, this didn’t make any sense! I ranted about the fact that my car has always run hot since the day I got it, and has consistently had overheating issues no matter how many times I’ve done stuff to remedy this or had mechanics look into the issue. This is why I can’t run the A/C, because it’ll overheat the car.
Cars crept by us as we stood on the shoulder of the road in the weeds, with my car hood up, letting it cool down a bit. The sun was baking hot, and insects buzzed in the trees. I was upset, ranting about what I was supposed to do. Here we were, trying to evacuate the state because a Category 4 hurricane is going to hit — not “maybe hit”, but definitely hit — and here we are passing through the area where it’s set to make landfall and now my car wants to overheat??? This wasn’t a situation that was going to get better either. The traffic jam went on for miles and miles, and the afternoon was only going to get progressively hotter, and more cars would be joining the cue. This was a situation. I panicked. And meanwhile, as the cars crept by, that was more and more people getting ahead of us and setting us back further in the line of cars. Tom remained calm and said that the best we could do was let it cool down for a little bit more, then try again. Run the heater to pull heat off the engine, and just keep pulling over every time the temp gauge rises.
!! This was totally fucked up. Pull over every time it starts to overheat?? So you mean every 5 minutes then?!?!? WE WOULD NEVER GET OUT OF HERE AT THAT RATE!!!!!
We had no choice. I got back in the car, put on the heat, merged back into traffic, and we crept along with all the others.
Within 10 minutes the temp gauge began crawling again. We pulled over and repeated the same scenario. And a short time later, the temp gauge began rising.
This was when I decided we should utilize the break down lane and try to by-pass this mess. Everybody was at a standstill, and I was panicked for my car situation. So, we swung over to the “cheat lane” and proceeded to by pass dozens of cars, our tires running over the grooved concrete. I was pretty excited but nervous, on the lookout for State Troopers. So far, so good! I watched the temperature gauge fall again as the air hit the engine.
Soon I came upon a car that seemed to have drifted over into both the right lane and breakdown lane. And he wasn’t moving over to the left when I approached. He just crept along, drifting back and forth into the breakdown lane.
I soon realized that this guy was trying to be a vigilante and keep me from using that lane. He was taking it upon himself to police everybody else and keep us all corralled into the two lane turnpike.
I was filled with seething rage. I could not BELIEVE the nerve of people. When I saw people using the breakdown lane I was like, Yeah! Good idea! Good for you, dude! Then there are people who see cars in that lane and want to put a stop to it?? WHY?? What the hell is going on with that mentality?? What, they feel it’s “wrong”, because it’s “against the law” ?? Fuck the law! We’re in an emergency evacuation situation! HELLO!! In times like these, that lane needs to become open and available!! And what’s the mentality of a person who goes out and does the “Law’s” job on behalf of the police?? THAT’S someone who would report their neighbor in a heartbeat for TIPS, or report their local 7/11 clerk as a terrorist. That’s who THAT is.
I went around him, on the grass, and continued on my way. Fucker.
Soon I had to merge back over again, pleased with myself for getting ahead and shaking a little from my anger at the “vigilante.” I wished I could have gotten out of my car and gotten into it with him.
We did the cheat lane a couple of more times, over and around and merge back in again, and somehow my car managed to hang in there until we got to the service rest stop. Once there, we had the hood up again, letting it cool down, meanwhile, as I myself heated up, angry, frustrated, and with a growing sense of panic. I was pissed that we took the turnpike, and began wishing we had taken Alligator Alley and the 75, although Tom believed it would have been just as bad, and just as crowded. This turnpike was a trap. There were no exits, not enough lanes, and too many people. Going back wasn’t an option, because we would have lost over three hours. And I had a car that was handicapped on top of everything. We were totally and completely fucked in every way with no choice but to somehow press forward in the stampede herd. I didn’t care about me, I was scared because we had my cat with us. This was not a good situation for her to be in on such a scorching day. And worst of all: Tom was now trapped here, in the path of the hurricane, all because of me. He moved here because of me, and was now trapped here, because of me. It’s my worst phobia, come to life.
On the map we saw there was something called “Yeehaw Junction”, probably named because it was one of the only turn off points on the entire turnpike. I asked a cashier at the gas station service stop what the deal was with Yeehaw while I paid for an overpriced bottle of NesTea.
“It’s about nine more miles from here, it’s a two lane road like the turnpike, and it’s even worse than this,” she told me as if repeating a tired script that she’d told hundreds of people before me.
Great, I thought. There goes that idea.
When I got back to the car, Tom told me that he’d been listening on the radio and they were saying that the 95 is even worse than the turnpike, that nothing is moving and people are exiting and trying to get around on back roads and surface streets.
Every route possible was a parking lot.
We were at the rest stop for about a half an hour. During that time as I stood around outside with my tea and the hood up, some fat guy waddled over to my car and peered down at the engine. Then he said some sort of comment, don’t remember the exact wording, but basically it was a “Sucks to be you” comment. Then waddled off.
>:( !!!!!! I thought. I HATE THIS STATE AND ALL OF ITS JERKY PEOPLE!!!!
Finally we got back in our cars and pressed forward. This time I cranked the heat up to full force and planned to keep switching the car into “Neutral” every time we were idling in one place for too long, as that disengages the gears from the engine and helps to keep unnecessary heat from building up. And then hoped for the best. I finished the 24 ounces of tea in no time in that heat. As I sat there in my car, crawling forward, I vowed that I would NEVER step foot in this God forsaken state again. I was done. I wasn’t coming back. Fuck this place.
Heat blasting….neutral. Heat blasting…neutral. “How’s your car doing?” Tom would check in on the radio. “So far, so good…..!” Somehow, we managed to make the nine miles to Yeehaw Junction, where we saw that all the cars, save for a few random ones, were all getting off at Yeehaw.
The highway in front of us was open, completely free and clear.
HOLY SHIT!!! I thought. WOOHOO!! Everybody was getting off at Yeehaw, fully believing that traffic advisory sign way back, and as a result, it was in turn clearing up the turnpike. There is no traffic jam! The sign is wrong! I thought excitedly.
We barreled forward, up to 80 miles an hour, taking full advantage of this newfound empty road. I watched my temp gauge drop. There were barely any cars. Just open road, fields, my CD player cranked, and the sun, hanging at 6 p.m., hot and yellow orange.
It lasted for a glorious but brief 25 miles, and then it was a parking lot again.
And so began Hell on Earth.
Cars crept along at a snail’s pace, sometimes very briefly getting up to 20 or 30 mph, but the average was 10 mph……soon becoming 5 later on in the night, and then not moving at all. But for now, we were averaging 10 mph. I had no choice but to have my heat blasting at full force to keep the engine from overheating. Soon my right foot was burned red, and dry and itchy. I had to root around for a sock in the hamper behind me to put on and protect my foot. The sun was at its peak hotness.
I have never sweated so much in my entire life. The setting sun was aimed right at me, to the left. I had sweat running down my face and neck and was wiping at them with spare paper napkins I had in my glove compartment, and my tank top was completely soaked through. My left arm and thigh were coated in slippery sun block and sweat. I reached for my 33 ounce bottle of water behind me and didn’t care that it was warm. I gulped it down. I sweat and sweat and sweat. I finished the first bottle and went to work on the second 33 ounce bottle, which was now even hotter than the first had been. I didn’t care. The second bottle carried us through past the toll plaza where they branched everybody out into 20 different toll booths (for free)……..only to cram us all back into two lanes again on the other side.
Cars, buses, SUVs, Suburbans, big rigs, car carriers, trucks with boats on trailers, you name it. All trying to merge back into 2 lanes.
20 tollbooth lanes merging back into a 2 lane highway.
You can barely see my car on the right – I’m the little green car with black tinted windows in front of the silver car…
It was a nightmare. We barely moved….and then did not move at all for over a half an hour. People were actually getting out of their cars and visiting with other cars. Others were standing on their cars to see over the crowd. And still my heat blasted on, out of emergency necessity, with my car idling in neutral, or shut off altogether. If I didn’t do this, we would not go. Period. I had no choice. Suffering in this baking fire heat was the only way any of us were going to make it out of here.
Wait a minute, I realized….Baking fire heat….My dream. Where we were stuck between a hurricane and a fire that was scorching the southeast. :) Yup.
I made a pact with my car at this point. “Car, if you hang in there, I’ll hang in there…”
I was drenched in sweat, working on my second bottle of water in only two hours and didn’t have to pee at all, such was the amount of fluid loss I had from all that sweating from the blasting heat in an already scorching day. My body was absorbing every last drop of the water. There was none to spare for pee.
I was hating people, the competition for space and resources. I was hating this road, and its poor design. But then I got a glimpse of a cute dog hanging out of one trucker’s cab, his tongue hanging out, watching everything. I saw kids looking out their windows, smiling and laughing. I had the realization that we’re all in the same boat. They’re no worse than me. These are just people trying to get out, like me. And they’re even worse off than me, because they have kids. An entire family that they’re trying to get out. !!
The sun was below the horizon at dusk when I had to pull off to the left side of the toll plaza parking lot in the grass. As I pulled off into the grass, the car ahead of me honked quickly, immediately assuming that I was going to pass him in the grass. !! “AHHH! FUCK YOU!!!” I mentally screamed. Everybody here was so tense, so quick to police everybody else and take it upon themselves to control everybody. I’d never seen anything like it before. This whole state SUCKS!!! I thought for the billionth time that week.
I was surprised my car had actually held off on wanting to overheat for this long. Running the heat was working. We went through the now usual routine – Lift the hood, let it air, as I pace around in the scratchy grassy weeds, going in useless circles, and while Tom remains calm and collected. I fretted about my cat, I worried about how we seemed to be trapped. Tom assured me that everything would be cool once we hit Orlando.
Tom merged back on, and we began our newest spur of the moment strategy where one of us merges on and lets the other in, rather than us just doing our own thing. He wedged his way into the line of cars, then paused to let me in. I was in front of him as we crawled along, the sun finally setting and promising relief. With the sun gone, my car stood an even better chance of not overheating.
And we crept along at an average of 10 mph. As the night wore on, we encountered more and more cars pulled off on the side of the road, broken down, and tow trucks. People were overheating or running out of gas I suspect. It put things in perspective for me, because I realized that my car could at least still run. It was crippled and had a handicap…..but it could still run. They on the other hand were permanently disabled and out of commission. Their situation was final: You are stuck here and will get no further tonight. This is the end of the line for you. I at least was still in the game and still had an open future. It was humbling.
I eventually remembered to open up the rest of my windows to get relief from my blasting heat (don’t know why I didn’t think of that before, duh…..) then resorted to opening my front door as well and propped it open with an outstretched leg. My car creeped along at 10, the pavement gliding below me, my door hanging open, my head tilted back. I lifted my shirt and fanned it up and down to get some air. I kept an eye on my temperature gauge. So far, so good. This was really working. The heat blasting, putting it in neutral when idling, and now the sun being gone. It was all working. Tom and I would talk on our Motorolas, musing about the situation, me complaining, making commentary and jokes. The conversation would drift off and we’d creep along in silence, in our own world and thoughts, my front door swinging back and forth as we edged forward.
Eventually the heat caught up with my car, and I had to pull off to the side again when I noticed the temperature getting hot. In the weeds, in the dark, we had the hood lifted, the usual routine. There were headlights as far as the eye could see in every direction. It was the worst jam I’d ever seen. Tom peed in the grass five feet from the road, faced away from the cars. Such was the nature of this trip. Nobody cared anymore. I took my gallon bottle of Zephyrhills from my trunk and filled up my empty Fiji bottle and began working on my THIRD 33 ounce bottle of water. Even after finishing that bottle and bringing my water intake to over 110 ounces when you factor in the NesTea, I STILL didn’t have to pee. Not one drop in there. Tom gave me Pumpkin seeds to snack on. It was 10 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten a thing all day, too busy and stressed to eat earlier. So it was over 24 hours without one bit of food for me. I wasn’t even hungry though, and I forced myself to eat the seeds, because Tom convinced me that I needed salt and electrolytes.
Despite all that sweating, heat, and lack of food, I was oddly feeling very healthful. I wasn’t dizzy or foggiheaded, I wasn’t tired, and my mind was clear, alert and focused. I was in survival mode! I was glad to see that when pressed, I could go without food and minimal sleep and be fine. It was a good thing to note.
Meanwhile, in the middle of all this, Tom had switched on his radio to try to find any hurricane update information. He wound up by synchronistic “luck” gleaning a helpful tidbit of information which would make or break this trip. It was a traffic advisory, and it mentioned something about the “441”, and using that to bypass the turnpike and get through Orlando. Tom looked it up on the map and sure enough, there was the 441, which cut through Orlando and then connected up to the 75, and ran parallel to it, all the way up the state.
It was around this point that I happened to glance over to the left, at the 10 o’clock position, and I saw the Epcot Center off in the distance. A big huge globe, lit up. There’s no mistaking it. It was the first time I’d ever seen it in person. I radio’d Tom excitedly. I don’t know why, I just thought that was pretty cool. Sure enough…the next exit was for Disney World, with an arrow pointing to the left.
The plan was, once we get to Orlando to take the 441 for as long as we could. It had to be better than this. Nothing could be worse than this. The 441 at least was a surface street with traffic lights, gas stations & restaurants. We would have the option to stop and pull off, unlike this nonsense right now on the Turnpike Trap.
After four hours — 11 p.m. – we STILL hadn’t cleared the remaining miles to Orlando. It was absolutely MADDENING by this point. We were on the outskirts of Orlando, but we couldn’t GET to Orlando and our 441 junction. We were mostly just stopped completely now, and only occasionally moving forward at 5 mph, one car space at a time before stopping again. It was absolute insanity. We mused about the good ol’ days when we actually were still reaching 20 and 30 mph.
More and more cars were getting ballsy — or desperate — by this point and using the breakdown lane unabashedly. Things were getting tense, you could hear it and feel it. I soon found myself during this point next to a HUGE big rig, silver in color with slatted sides. I realized it was a livestock car. We were moving so slowly I could clearly hear the sound of hooves clomping softly inside, and bodies moving and shifting around. Fascinated and sad, I looked. I found a cow’s eyes and partially obscured face staring right back at me through a slat. We were almost on eye level and directly across from each other, and our eyes locked as both vehicles creeped together at the same speed. In the truck, bodies continued to shift, hooves clomped. I said hi to the cow. I always say hi and talk to animals, I can’t help it. I remembered my former co-worker Ryan talking about driving past a cow one night in a field and locking eyes with it, and something about the cow’s eyes shook him to his core, causing him to go vegetarian the very next day. (although it didn’t last permanently, but he was a vegetarian for years.) I finally knew what he meant.
Traffic ground to a halt again. Our exit was only two miles away and we couldn’t get there!! This was ridiculous!!!! We would be here for HOURS MORE just trying to get through another two miles!!!! No, I wasn’t doing it. I watched car after car whizzing by in the breakdown lane and radio’d Tom to ask him about going that route. At first he didn’t want to and hemmed and hawed, something about how he couldn’t tell how close or far the headlights were in his side mirror, and he may pull out and get slammed by a car. Cautious Taurus. I was like, Oh come on! Whatever! I’ll look, and when it’s clear, let’s go! We have to!! Crazy Scorpio Tiger. ;) He conceded. We really didn’t have a choice anymore, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Our exit was right up the road. We could do this!
I pulled out a little into the breakdown lane so I could see in both directions. Up ahead it was clear. Coming up from behind there were some headlights. I waited for a few cars pass by, and then was like, “It’s clear! Come on, let’s go!” I was feeling intense and keyed up by this point. Again, the energy in the air was very negatively charged up by this point. We’d all just spent hours and hours stuck in never ending relentless traffic, crawling along at maddening speeds. I was now in my Survivalist Mode, the mode I seem to thrive in and was born to do. It requires smarts, a clear head, and a willingness to take daring risks. I had all three happening at the moment, so watch out.
We both whipped over and took off! Woohoo!! Freedom! I felt by this point that I was being guided, and my intuition was in swing. I felt that we would be able to pull this off. I did not feel like we were going to get pulled over, ticketed, or arrested. We were clear.
“If anybody gets in my way, I’m going around them!” I said to him on the radio. “Fuck them!! I’m going around them on the grass!”
Tom agreed. We flew by car after car after car, without impediment. “You doing okay??” I asked him. Got an affirmative. We had our hazards on, blinking away as we flew by everybody, our tires rolling on the grooved concrete. Eventually we had to squeeze back in because of a truck pulled over on the shoulder. We did our system of helping each other get in, and just in time. Not even 30 seconds later a State Trooper sped by us with his strobes going in the breakdown lane. My heart skipped a beat. Amazing timing there.
We were all at a standstill again. Cars were honking at each other, tensions were high.
“We gotta get out of here, our exit is right up the road…let’s give it another try…!”
He reluctantly agreed. Again, I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel guided, or if my intuition hadn’t been clued in. Despite just seeing that state trooper, I knew we could do this. Looking back on this, all logic would say that you just saw a State Trooper, how in the world could it possibly be okay and safe to get back in the breakdown lane?? I don’t know, I just know that my intuition was guiding me and I “felt” that we would be okay. And so I listened.
I pulled out again into the breakdown lane, surveyed the situation. “Alright, let’s go, come on!” And we were off, for a second time, racing along the grooved concrete, flying by all the cars.
“We need to get back in!” Tom said suddenly over the radio.
“Why?!?” I asked, my heart racing again, thinking there was a cop or something behind him with its strobes going, panicking at the thought of him being pulled over. But there was no cop……he was just anxious and worried and wanted to get back over, just in case.
“The exit is still 1 and ¾ of a mile away!” I said reading the sign up ahead. “You’ve seen how long it took us to just go 1 mile! We need to take this as far as we can!” My intuition was saying go for it.
I pushed onwards, flying past dozens of cars and trucks, a car carrier, big rigs. Buh bye, all of them. See ya.
Sure enough, we encountered a vigilante. It was blocking another car like us who was also using the Cheat Lane, doing that whole thing where it straddles both lanes.
“There’s some clown blocking the guy ahead of me!” I narrated to Tom. “He’s being a vigilante. The guy ahead of me doesn’t have the balls to go around him…If that was me I’d just fucking go around him on the grass! Fuck him! Just fucking go around!!! He looks like he wants to go around him and keeps moving over but he chickens out…dammit, just go!…Wait!!! He got the balls!!! He’s going, let’s go, come on, now! Just go around him on the grass!…”
And we did, having to partially drive on the grass, but we whipped around and sped off again. Woohoo!
“WAIT!! GET OVER!! THERE’S A TROOPER UP AHEAD!” Tom yelled into the radio.
I slammed on my brakes looking for a spot to cut back in. A big rig was coming up on the left, followed closely by cars that were crammed together. There was no way back in. I was stuck, sitting face to face with a trooper giving out a ticket to another car for doing the same thing we were doing. The trooper looked up at me, exasperated, from where he stood writing the ticket.
“It’s okay, merge in, he can’t do anything, he’s already giving out a ticket!” Tom said. When a spot opened up, we squeezed in – right in front of the State Trooper. As we did our maneuver, somebody behind us honked in anger. We ignored it. The right lane was at a standstill again. I knew our exit was right up ahead, but this lane was NOT moving, and the one to the left was. We took a chance and switched lanes. Sure enough, there were several big rigs and yet ANOTHER car carrier that had been grinding the right lane to a standstill. Good move on our part to skirt around………and I do mean skirt. Because after passing those big rigs and that car carrier we needed to get back over immediately because our exit was right there.
Tom managed to sandwich himself between the car carrier and the big rig and I watched as he was already going down the exit lane. The exit was almost past me now and the road was branching with double painted lines to my right to indicate that it was too late for me to get over. I literally, had about two seconds to do something or I was screwed, although I wasn’t feeling the panic. I was just in survival/dream mode. React and be quick, think later. My only option was to gun my car and shoot over in front of the car carrier, across those double lines…………….which I did. The car carrier laid on the horn. To me the whole thing felt like a game, it didn’t feel real, like it was a video game maneuver.
And I made it. I managed to dart over at the absolute last possible second, but I made it, and was soon exiting the off ramp behind Tom. I NEVER thought we’d see the end of the road from hell. It took us over 10 hours to go just 200 miles.
It’s a bit…nerve wracking…in retrospect to imagine what would have happened had I not made that crazy maneuver. Tom would have made it off the turnpike, and I would have been locked on the turnpike for hours more, with no exit for miles. Our radios lose their signal after several miles, so, we would have lost contact with each other, with no idea what to do, where to meet, or how to find each other, being that we have no cell phones.
!!!!!!!
I seriously can’t even think about it. It freaks me out.
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