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Author	Topic: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
DarthTunick Title: Arena's Streak for Colors Host Registered: Nov '00	Date Posted: 5/23/06 8:47pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation - Date Edited: 5/23/06 9:09pm (1 edits total) Edited By: DarthTunick
	Not suprising that FEMA wasn't any help. It should have been obvious to those who ok'ed the contra-flow lanes, that they would eventually just become jammed and would offer no help to a majority of motorists, such as yourself. -----signature----- September 11th, 2001 -Never forget Viva Los Angeles! RIP, Cody "Snowball" Reeves, 1978-2008. Lawrence Tanter is my homeboy. 2009-2010 L.A. Lakers: 10-3, my record at Staples Center: 0-1
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/10/06 11:16am Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Thirty-Seven: The descent I was not completely given to anger, but a growing resentment was taking hold and the anger built with it. I had to constantly remind myself the lesson of the oasis. When I could go no further, God had given me what I needed He was with me, and for that I was very grateful. But it was harder than I imagined it would be to hold onto faith and hope. What with Becky's death, having missed the on-ramp for the contra-flow lanes and the ever slowing traffic there seemed to be fewer and fewer signs that God was helping me. However, despite it I did remind myself of God's good grace, and did what I could to keep my hopes high. Not long after, I got a sign of some hope. One lady reported that along I-10, about 40 miles outside of the metroplex there was a place where traffic was flowing almost normally. However, the downside was that this sudden surge only lasted for twenty miles and then grinded to a halt yet again. Despite the downside to this news, I held to a hope that it was a positive sign of things to come. There was one thing that concerned me, though. Eventually the contra-flow would have to re-merge with regular traffic, and when it did it would bottleneck, badly. I wondered if perhaps that was why the up-surge only lasted for twenty miles, maybe this wasn't a good sign after all, but rather a bad one. Be that as it may, I held out hope for the best. September 22, 2005 10:45 PM As bad as my journey seemed, I was fairing better than others. Beside me, as I drove, I saw the long line of those who wouldn't make it. The side of the road was littered with cars stalled, out of gas or overheated. Families gathered around their cars and kept each other company while they waited for help that would be a very long time in coming. I wondered if they would survive. Did they have enough supplies to endure the heat of the morrow, and more importantly, were we far enough away from Rita's path? If the storm blew in this direction, they would all certainly die. There simply wasn't anywhere to go on foot, no shelter off I-10 along this stretch of the highway. It was only open fields and grass. Hurricane force winds would wipe it clean True that not all of the people I saw were stranded. Many others were the demoralized masses who wouldn't go on until traffic let up. The road had beaten them and they didn't have it in them to press on. Others were just tired and pulled over for a rest. It was difficult to say how many fit into each catagory. The state had announced that people needing gas should pull over and pop their hoods to signal. Based on the number of people I saw doing this, I can say a good percentage were stranded people. With each passing mile, I saw more and more. September 22, 2005 11:00 PM Thirst pains were growing in intensity. I checked the amount I had consumed on the Azirona Ice Tea and I was on track to making it last. Despite the pain, I stuck to the plan of slow consumption. September 22, 2005 11:15 PM The boredom was driving me nuts. I faced a grim situation, one with an uncertain outcome, was dehydrated and had been sitting behind the wheel of my car for almost 14 hours with nothing but the radio to keep me company, and even that was getting very, very old. I tried playing mind games in my head to distract and preoccupty me, but it didn't do any good. September 22, 2005 11:30 PM I tried replaying movies in my mind, thinking of my favorites and remensing on my favorite scenes. Often when I am bored this helps, but this time it produced an interesting result. As I replayed scenes from my favorite films, I was sickened at the thought of them. It found it odd at first, but then as I studied this most unusually reaction I found the reason for it. All these films are the stories or people suffering. Think about it, a movie is usually around some sort of adventure, a hero facing some advertisy of some sort. Even comedies are this way, although those usually around personal trials and not matters of life and limb. Bacause of this, Star Wars no longer seemed like the story of Luke Skywalker traveling across space saving the Princess and the day. It now was the story of a boy who saw his only family brutually murdered, his mentor killed by the same man he believed killed his father, and then witnessed his best friend gunned down next to him in the heat of battle. It is true that all of these things happen in Star Wars, but is that how you think of the film? The terrible day of Luke Skywalker? No, but on the Desperate Road it suddenly became this. It was maddening. Failing my ability to distract myself with amussing or happy thoughts, I returned to the one source I could to find peace. I entered into a long conversation with God. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/10/06 11:17am Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Thirty-Eight: Conversations with God September 22, 2005 11:40 PM Hope was like a candle, burning low in a dark room. The candle did not burn strong, but in the darkness of the surroundings, it shown brightly. A waft of air would case it to flicker and seem for a moment to have gone out, but the flame would return. The oasis had stood as my reminder as my hope for survival. In the last several hours I had faced the very real possiblity that I would die and had to come to some sort of terms to that end. However, since one deliverance had been mine, the hope of another was the logical conclusion of my faith. I knew that faith in the Lord does not exclude trials from one's life, but it is pivatal in enduring them. And so I turned to God for what strength. It began by thanking him for the oasis and the drinks I had purchased there. The pain I endured now, after the oasis, I took to be a test, so after thanking God I addressed that directly. I told God that I would continue to be faithful, and chatted with him about the reality of my ebbing despair. I suppose to some it would seem like a contradiction. It wasn't. It was the lesson of Job and I was doing what I thought was my absolute best to immitate it. For a time, I felt strenghtened by this and encouraged. However, at the same time, the physical darkness and the sense of hopeless increase ever more. This again would seem like a contradiction, but it had already been my experience in recent months that the harder you push against evil the harder it pushed back. This was no exception. And so I asked God for the ability to fight the evil that pushed at my heart and for protection of my mind and soul. September 23, 2005 midnight It was a new day. It didn't seem like one. The hands of the clock had turned, and the worst calendar day of my adult life was over. But nothing had changed. I was still on the highway, still moving very slowly, still opressed by the heat and still very far from my goal. The hurricane would most likely make landfall this day, although not for many hours yet. Even so, the final countdown had truly begun. I then saw something that filled me with dread. The contra-flow was started to slow. Within minutes, it wasn't moving, not any faster than we were, and we were still only going about ten miles an hour at best. So that was it. All forward flow had come to a grind and the contra-flow lanes really hadn't worked. We were all stuck now with no place to go. Returning to my prayer, I now focused on deliverance from this terrible night. I had to get out of this traffic and on to San Antonio. At this rate, none of us would make it. How much could our mind, bodies and cars endure? And wasn't the sign of the oasis a sign of deliverence? Why help me for a little while only to abandon me a few hours later? Deliverence had to be forthcoming, didn't it? I petitioned and pleaded, offering many words, but in the end, all I could do was wait patiently for an answer. September 23, 2005 12:25 AM Patiences... I am not a patient man. By all rights, I should have gone mad with impatient frustration hours and hours ago. It was a gift from God that I was able to not completely break down before this point. What little patience I had was rationed out like my water supply, and I was running out - fast. Patience was interlaced with hope and as my patience faded so did my hope until finally - after fifteen hours of driving it was all but gone. Hope, like a candle, burned lower and lower. The wax melted down the side until the tall, sleek form of the candle was nothing more than a melted lumb. It was only an orange glowing ember now, and even in the darkness, it was hard to see. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/10/06 11:19am Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Thirty-Nine: Roadside funeral September 23, 2005 12:40 AM I was in a haze now. This was in part, I am sure, due to the fatigue of the long drive, although I did not feel tired in the normal sense of the word. Sleep was not something I felt inclined towards. I wanted a more permenant escape from the situation, and short of that I knew nothing. Yet I still felt a sense of dillerium and reality as we know it blurred. The radio was off now, and I focused soley on the road ahead. My thoughts searched desperate for something to fill my head other than with thoughts of despair. Bit by bit, thoughts of my surrounding slipped away, and then I was no longer on the highway. It was an odd sensation. Least you mistake what was happening at this point, let me clarify that I had not fallen asleep. I was aware of my surroundings, I could see the headlights in front of me, I knew how fast the cars were (or were not) going, and adjusted my speed according. I kept pace with the traffic around me, I was upright and my eyes on the road, but I wasn't there anymore. A breeze came into the open passanger window and out the driverside and I could feel the cool spring air. There was tall, green trees and sunlight around me. The cool rays of a morning dawn greeted my senses with the sweet smell and morning dew. I was wandering up a hillside on foot, traveling alone. Ahead of me was a mountain and behind it, more mountains. It was a welcome sight. I strolled up the side of the hill closer to the mountain and came around to a road that led to a castle. It was tall, very old and nestled alongside a cliff that overlooked the country around it. It had long since abandoned, yet something like an invisible force welcomed me in. For a while I traversed the dim and dusty halls, noting the orangish glow on the gray stone that came from the sunbeams and listened to the echo of my footsteps as I passed through the vast corridors. Another sound drew me out of the stone hallways and to the grassy hills outside. It was the sound of rushing water. There near the castle I found a waterwall. I stood by it and watched it flow and felt the gentle mist blow over me, carried by low gusts of wind. I then became fully aware of the source of this waking vision, if one could call it that. As I had said, I was still aware of the road and the dense traffic all around me, and yet part of me had left that road and traveled through fields of green. The why for this was in part to a relief of a different kind. I was now traveling at 20 miles an hour, a little more at times. Althought I was not going what I would call "fast", I was making progress. I was driving, really driving, not this tab, tab of the breaks, inching my way along. I tried to enjoy the sense of forward progress. I also now lived in fear that it would end. And after just a few minutes, it did. Traffic almost came to a stand-still, then after another five minutes or so, continued on at its usual ten (tops) miles per hour. The tap, tap of the breaks had returned. I tried to return to the vision several times that night, but I never could. There was something about making steady forward progress, even slow progress, that relieved my pysche and allowed me to ponder peaceful thoughts. The mysterious paradise was only a brief rest. Like all good things that exists only in this world, it came to an end and did not return. September 23, 2005 1:00 AM Ahead of me was a series of brilliants lights that glisened off to the side. An island of white flourences in the barren land I traveled. Ahead of me off to one side was a large service station, the kind that services 18-wheelers as well as long distance autombole travelers. I believe it was a Loves, allthough I am no longer sure. As with everything on this part of I-10, there was nothing around it. It sat alone in a sea of grass. Althought the landscape around it was empty its parkinglot was not. Cars covered every inch of available space. At a distance it looked as if they were all lined up for gas, but as I got close enough to see, I could tell that they were not in line, they were just -- there. The whole place was litered with cars that were merely parked. These evacuees had found a place to be, and for them, that was enough. I am sure some were waiting for gasoline trucks to come, but most (as I would learn later) were just waiting for the whole mess to come to an end. People wandered around chatting with one another, having picnics, taking pets out for walks, sitting on their cars. It was like a festival of a kind had sprouted ut of nothingness. The lights of the store were lit and I wondered to myself if they were open and, if so, if they had something to drink. I wanted to buy more beverages so that the seemingly eternal draught I was under would pass. I could feel sweat glistening on my skin. I looked at the bevareges I had left, 60% remaining. Not enough for the long hot might and scorching day to follow. But I knew whatever resources that store had were long sense stripped by the hoards of others who needed them as bad as I and who had gotten there first. Traffic was going horrifically slow at this point. I sat in traffic eyeing the store for probably twenty minutes. It beckoned to me like a siren, calling me to stop there, give up my chase and wait for the end with the others. I resisted. Hope seemed like a dream, but I was determined not to give in to pointless madness. Given the size of Rita, I still felt that I was too close to the storm, and if I was right then the people at this station would all soon be dead. There was no other choice, I had to press on. There was one item of business which ate at the back of my mind that I felt compelled to address, and that was the issue of Becky. At that point It was highly likely that I would spend the next 24 to 48 horus in this car. If the hurricane went easterwardly, I would have a long road ahead. If in such a positive scenario I was already clear of the worst, I would have to make this car home for a long time. As such, it seemed unwise to leave a dead animal in the back set of my car for extended hours, especially in this heat, for sanitation reasons. I had hoped to make it to San Antonio and give Becky a dignified end of somekind, but hope of that had departed. She had already been dead for seven to eight hours, I reckoned, so I decided to dispose of the body now rather than later. I had just passed the Loves rest-stop. It was just behind me, still in easy walking distance. This afforded me a little extra light on the side of the road, so I pulled over. There were others pulled over along the roadside nearby. I felt uncomfortable with people watching as I gave Becky her roadside funeral, so I put just enough distance between me and them so that they couldn't readily see what I was doing. I walked out away from the road and looked for a good place to leave Becky's body. There was a low ditch and high grass. This would suffice. I had intended at first just to deposite the cage, rabbit and all, there in the ditch. The cage was of no use to me anymore. But I was afraid that if someone saw me they would think I was abandoning a pet. I didn't want to have to explain if confronted, so I decided to just leave her body there and return with my car to the cage. It was hard getting her body out. She had already gone into rigermortious and was as stiff as could be. In her current form, she did not easily fit out of the cages entrance. It took several minutes of shaking before I finally got her out. She landed in a segment of foot-tall weeds with a thud. The black of the night made it so that I could not see any details of where she landed. She was now nothing more than a dark shape among a brush fo weeds. I stood there looking at the dark, unmoving shape feeling very defeated and very sad. Then, silently, I shut the cage door and started back towards the car. I hesitated and looked back at. "Good-bye, Becky," I said, and with that, I got back in my car and slowly, ever slowly, continued on. Becky lived a sad life. She was never a happy pet. I had tried to get her a rabbit companion, but he had died four years earlier. The rest of the years she lived alone. For a rabbit, she lived a long life, but she could not survive the Desperate Road. She died a needless death -- scared, confused, hot and thirsty. She died because of me, because of my fear. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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DarthTunick Title: Arena's Streak for Colors Host Registered: Nov '00	Date Posted: 6/10/06 1:13pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Poor Becky. Despite all that was going on around you, at least you were able to find comfort in something. -----signature----- September 11th, 2001 -Never forget Viva Los Angeles! RIP, Cody "Snowball" Reeves, 1978-2008. Lawrence Tanter is my homeboy. 2009-2010 L.A. Lakers: 10-3, my record at Staples Center: 0-1
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/12/06 9:59pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Fourty: Conversations with the Devil September 23, 2005 1:25 AM The island of white lights disappeared in my rear view mirror and once more, I was surrounded by nothing more than a sea of headlights, engulfed in blackness. After a few minutes, I managed to catch site of a sign that the distance to the next town and also the distance to Columbus. Columbus had been appearing on signs for some time now, even though it was still many miles away. This told me it was significant. I'd heard reports from the radio earlier of people who had taken a highway north through Columbus to escape the evacuation traffic. Curiousity got me to consider the possiblity, so I decided to study the map and see just where this highway went. I parked in the left shoulder and unfolded the map. t appeared Columbus was the largest town between Houston and San Antonio, positioned roughly fourty percent of the way between the two closest to Houston. A highway called Highway 71 cut northward through Columbus and ended up on I-35 in the south part of Austin. It was feasable to then take I-35 down to San Antonio, which would be only about eighty miles or so, I reckoned. Still, most likely by now Highway 71 had become a major evacuation route for people going to Austin and would be massively backlogged. I couldn't accept or believe it would be otherwise. Everytime I heard of a good route or sign of hope, it had been for not. Why should this be any different? As I approached Columbus, I would make a decision, but for the time being I would press on. My memory fails me on the exact distance, but as I recall Columbus was somewhere between twenty and thirty miles away at this point. The map showed that I had made better progress than that I thought (not drastically better, but enough to take note of and be pleased with), so I figured if traffic held steady maybe I could make it there in two hours or so. As I sat there looking at the map, a car swurved suddenly off the road and came up behind me. Its engine sputtered and died. The person tried to start it, but to no avail. It was the unmistakable sight and sound of someone who had just run out of gas. I shuddered and felt a sense of urgency tighten within me. I checked my own gas gage. I was at around sixty percent of my fuel capacity. Knowing the rate at which I expend fuel at different levels, and how much farther I had to go, I now realized I wasn't going to make it. It was definite now. I knew already, without any doubt, that there would be no gas along the evacuation route, and believed that the reports about FEMA trucks were merely proganda lies told by the government in order to keep people from panicking. I ran the math through my head. I can't remember how I came to this conclusion, but I figured I could make it 75% of the way there in a best case sensario. This best case senario was a fairly possible senario, but so were other worse case senarios. In either event, it was likely I would get clear of hurricane force winds before running out. However, my mind was so eaten alive with doubt and concerns that even that seemed questionable. I had heard, at one point, that San Antonio would feel winds up to 60 mph from Rita. So, if I was only half way there (or a little more) when I ran out of gas, I could still be in the path of catagory one level winds, depending. And I would be so without any protection but what my car had to offer, which would be very little. All-in-all, I gave myself a 50% chance of surviving the next 24 hours with odds significantly less than that of coming out of this unharmed (what with facing dehydration and high winds). Even if I did survive unharmed I would be in the middle of nowhere with no way of getting more fuel - or food or water for that matter - for many, many miles. It was a very similar conclusion to the one I had come to that afternoon while stuck on Highway 59. With all that I had endured since then, here I was again. So that was that, and the reality of it ate away at my sanity. The future had become an uncertain blob. We never know what each day or even each minute holds for us, but there is a certain level of reasonable expectation that gives our future (the near future at least) foreseeable dependable with some degree of accurancy. Usually, whenever this accurancy is upset by the unexpected, whether good or bad, it happens so suddenly that you don't even realize your expectations were nothing more than assumptions. This situation was different. Now I was in a situation where I knew that I was facing the unpredictable and have given time to ponder it. I honestly had no idea what to expect, zero, zip. I had theory based on certain facts, but that meant little. Things could change so quickly. My life in the next 24 hours was a gray wall ahead of me. Despite this realization, it gave me no hope. I could no longer envision that I would ever be in San Antonio with my family. It seemed as likely as finding a million dollars on the side of the road. There was nothing I wanted more than to be in San Antonio right now and to have all of this behind me. But wishing accomplishes little except to taunt one's desire. There was no quick fix or easy answer to this situation. The hopelessness of it all nawed at my very soul. I couldn't get my mind off the unpleasant images of what might happen. Thirst nawed at me, so I decided to indulge in a little more tea. I checked my liquid supply. I still had about half remaining, but I was hestitant to have much more since I would need that and more to face the heat of the next day. The heat, ah, yes, that would be as big a problem as being stuck in the middle of nowhere when a hurricane came along. I would need to do something about that. Thoughts of movies involving deserts came to mind, and I remembered something from Lawerence of Arabia. When facing the most brutal part of the desert journey he had inbarked on, Lawerence started traveling by night and sleeping by day. It had been a good long while since I had any sleep, so the idea of employee those desert tactics made sense. When the morning sun was full in the sky and the hottest part of the day upon us I would pull over and sleep, maybe find shade under an overpass, and then at evening I would press on. It was the only option I had to survive another day of merciless heat (that I could think of, at least). It, of course, further illumenated any chance of making it to San Antonio, but at this point survival was a moment by moment experience. Survival... I wandered at it, and then I wandered at the deeper questions. Why was this happening to me, to us? Hadn't Houston been generous in taking in Katrina evacuees and doing our best to help them? Then God sent us Rita. What was going on?. Why had God delivered me by directing me to Napoli's pizzareia, only to leave me here alone in the night? I was very grateful for the repreve, but I had trouble connecting with that sense of gratitude at this point. Had God delivered me only temporily only to abandon me once again, all alone in the night? Much of me wanted to say yes, but some part of my faith, some strength, as ever hard as it was to tap and connect to at that moment, did not accept that answer. God would deliver me again. Yes, I believed it. I had to believe it. As I remembered this, a thought occured to me. This whole thing could very well be a test. Perhaps, behind the curtain of this life, a spiritual battle was taking place and I was just now becoming aware of it. Perhaps, even as I set there, there was a battle going on for my heart and mind beyond the curtain of this life. As I looked at the blackness that engulfed my surroundings, felt the desperation of the flight, I could not shake the sensation of being surrounded by an evil presence. This evil, this despair, wanted to choke hope from me, and by doing so, cut me off from God. That could not be tolerated. And so I did something very dangerous and exceedingly unwise. I decided to address the darkness directly and entered into a conversation with the Devil. This is a most dangerous thing to do. I had not realized before then how dangerous. To address the darkness, even to oppose it, is to focus on the darkness. That's exactly what evil wants. To acknowledge the darkness in such a direct and personal way is to pour out a part of that one's soul into a bottomless pit and, by virtue of doing this, lesson oneself. It is a maddening experience, but I launched fearlessly into it. For the next ten minutes I challenged the Devil, argued with him, defied him. Bit by bit it drove me deeper into the Madness. It brought me no comfort, no solace. This went on until, finally, spiritual exhausted and mentally shaken, I gave it up. Defying the Darkness was the last thing I knew to hold onto reason and onto hope. I had prayed to God, I had tried to find happy thoughts, and now I had tried this. There was nothing left to try, and the road still went on and on. ...and on. The candle of hope flickered as the flame took it down to its roots and then went out. The faint embers glowed a soft orangish-red for a moment and then gave way to a buff of smoke that rose gently into the air leaving nothing behind but the darkness that surrounded it. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/12/06 10:01pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Forty-One: Total Erosion September 23, 2005 1:45 AM My mind had become like a great glass window, cracked and chipped along one edge with pressure added so that the crack would grow. With each moment, the world I had known before died inside of me as if it were dying around me. The perspections of my old life slipped away minute by minute and were replaced by thoughts of despair, or by nothing at all. I now existed in something of a dual state. While my greater consciousness slipped into the darkness to be eaten by madness, another part of my pyschy completely separated itself from the rest of my mind and became a machine of logic. This part carefully considered all options, looked at the situation objectively and continued to plan an escape of sorts from this mess. The logical part knew nothing of hope, but it knew nothing of despair. In a way, looking back on the whole affair, I think I existed in this duality the entire journey, but now the separation of the two was very distinct, although I was not consciously aware of it. Out of nowhere, I heard the sirens of an ambulance blaring my direction. I did not see it, but the sound was unmistakable. It was notably odd, because it was headed towards Houston. I do not know for sure how. It must have been the east bound service road, which had been left open for normal traffic. As I heard it racing by, I realized that I had heard others earlier, but had paid them no mind. I studied the cars around me, and wondered at the people around me. What were they thinking, what were they enduring? Heat, thirst, aches of sitting for so long, the bordem, the fear, the hopelessness and pointlessness of it all ate at my very being. Did it eat at everyone else? The contraflow lane continued at a snail's pace. They went faster than us, but just barely. These lanes were set up in such a way that there was no getting off until you reached the contra-flow's end. I didn't know where that was, but it was far away from Houston. These people were stuck and were in it for the long hail now. It was impossible for them to turn back. It seemed a cruel, mocking fate that these people, who had for so many miles cruised at normal highway speeds, were now trapped in the worst of it and could do nothing about it. I must admit shamelfully that a part of me, however small, took satisfaction in this twist. No, you cant get away! You, too, must suffer with the rest of us. Yet at the same time it was the most depressing sight on the road. If these people could not evacuate safely, who could? I noticed a passanger bus that made its way along the contra-flow lane. At that moment the bus seemed like a creation of wonder. Surely that is a magical contraption that can escape this mess? But, no, like everything, it crawled inch by inch, entrapping dozens of people on it to their doom. Even so, I still envied this bus, and I gave thought to abandoning my car and joining them. Why? Well, I figured that they were probably well set with supplies for a long journey, something I was not. Plus I figured, for some reason, that they were able to maintain their AC (probably untrue). In any event, they were a group, they were together and they had each other even if it was a bus full of strangers. I, in turn, had no one. I was utterly alone.. Yes, the sense of loneliness also tore at my like the thirst. It wasn't just that I was traveling alone, I was cut off from the people in my life in every way. I had no way to get to them, and I had no way of calling them. I would need to find a way, though, I told myself. That was very important. As I glanced at my gas-gage, I reminded myself that I would be forced to abandon my car at some point. What would happen to me then? I imaged a number of sensarios, some ending in my death, others not, but none ending well. However, my family could not foresee these scensarios as I could, because they had no idea where I was or what had happened. All they knew is that I had left Houston a day ago and was missing. Beyond that, theyhad no way of knowing any more. If I had to spend another day or two walking to San Antonio, they wouldn't know. If I was hurt and on the side of the road, alone, they wouldn't know. If I died, they wouldn't know. I wondered what exactly my aunt and uncle were thinking/doing right now? What about my parents? I knew they'd expect ot hear from me once I was safe, and so they knew I was, as of yet, not out of harms way. If something were to happen to me, I knew my death or disappreance would be devistating to my family. Whatever my family was thinking now, it would be worse once the huricane rolled ashore (no matter its landing pointing) and they still had not heard from me. And as I played out all the different senariors for the next 24 hours, I knew I would be still on the road when that happened. That was one assumption I felt certainity of. The logical part of my brain kicked in and gave this careful consideration. I couldn't save myself, but I could safe my family some measure of anguish by keeping my fate from being a total mystery. As such, it became very important for me to find a pay phone. Surely I would run across another gas-station by the highway. While I knew such a station would have nothing for me in the way of gas or supplies, but surely it would have a pay phone. My plan was simple. I would call my uncle to tell him I wasn't going to make it. I would tell him my location, that I was headed for Highway 71 and ask him, once the hurricane had passed and the roads finaly cleared, to call the state police and have them begin the search for me starting at the point of the phone call foward. If I was still in the path of the hurricane come tomorrow, my family would know I had not survived and they would know why, but if the hurricane turned away, this would let my family know I might still be alive and where to search for me. I didn't hold to the illusions that this would do me much good, but without this information all my family would know is that I left Houston and was never heard from again. To at least know something of my fate would give them knowledge to help heal their grief, and if I did survive, then maybe they would find and rescue me eventually. Since I didn't know if the hurricane would come this way, I had to make some assumption I would survive. I also had to make some assumption I wouldn't find a phone, or the chance that service would be out. I was, after all, in the middle of nowhere and the phone-lines would be jammed with people trying to alert their families to their status. If this turned out to be true, I wouldn't be able to alert my family to my fate. However, in the event my body was found, I could still leave parting words. I had a pen and some paper I had brought with me to work on a Bible lesson for the following week. I decide to wait for a bit, but I promised myself I would write a farewell letter to my family and keep it on my persons some place where it would not easily be destroyed but easily found. Having devised all these plans and come to these conclusions, the logical and sane part of me died a little more and the crack on the glass of my mind spread deeper. As I had feared, the plan to call my uncle was for not, though. I kept my eye out for a pay-phone, but in the next hours that followed I saw nothing but empty, open countryside. Another ambulance came blaring from the road ahead and whizzed passed towards Houston. I still couldn't see them, which definitely meant they were on the east bound service road. Then I heard another, and another. For the next two hours, my only companion was the unending sound of sirens. I wept inside for these people, but I envied them all the same. One way or the other, their mad journey was over. Mine went on without an end in sight. September 23, 2005 2:00 AM Suddenly, traffic picked up, dramatically. I was doing about 40 miles per hour. It was astounding, and made no sense. I wasn't going to complain though. However, as wonderful as this twist was, I could not enjoy it. I lived in fear that it would end, and five minutes later, it did. As suddenly as it began, it ended, and returned to the average 5 to 10 miles per hour. Why this happened, I still do not know. I railed in anger and despair at its passing. I was grateful for the added miles, but I felt, at the same time, mocked. Who was mocking me, though? I remembered my earlier argument with the Devil. I had no doubts he was laughing at me. But where was God in all this? I cried out, but could not hear him. I looked around me for a sign, but could see none. And for the first time in my life, I had the sense that God had abandoned me. Now I was truly and utterly alone. Time ticked on. I cannot remember now for certain, but I believe I went on in silence, no radio or CDs playing. The sides of the road were lined with even more cars than before. Now every ten feet, sometimes less, was a group of people stranded, doing what they could to make the best of it. I looked at their faces as I passed. They seemed a million miles away, in a different world. They all had someone to talk to. I did not. I wondered, when my gas tank emptied and I was stranded, would anyone let me share their time and company, or would I be forced to endure my last hours alone? The later, I assumed. There were no happy faces, no welcoming smiles, just empty, dead eyes in the dead of night. And there I was, lost and alone, among them. At least, in a few hours, it would be over. I did not know if I would live or die, but I knew one thing for certain -- I had come to the end of my life, life as I know it, that is. My life was being poured out into the dark, dry land. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/12/06 10:03pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Fourty-Two: Broken September 23, 2005 2:15 AM Columbus wasn't far away now, only a few miles, just under ten. Good, I thought to myself, that would change my situation. I would be off of I-10 and free to take a new path. This change offered me no hope of actually reaching my goal. That hope was gone. But if offered me the hope of a different fate than my current path. I had no idea what my fate would be if I took Highway 71, but it was enough to know that it would, could, just maybe be different. Perhaps if it wasn't as crowded, I would make it well clear of Rita or any spin-off weather before I ran out of fuel. Maybe I would find a caravan that would take me in as company, or maybe -- well, I didn't know, but there was little point in staying on this road. Just to be somewhere else, that was enough, even if I died in the storm, or dehydrated, or lost in the wilderness of south Texas, just to have the chance that something different would happen - not better, just different - was enough. Traffic had picked up to the point that from time to time I would make a mile every ten minutes. I did the math, given the number of miles I had to go and my current speed, I could get there in an hour. Good, all I had left to endure was another hour of the sameness, of this utter, pointless madness, and then new adventures and (or) horrors would await me. September 23, 2005 2:30 AM At this point I began to slip in and out of various stages of the madness. Sometimes I would be overcome with grief and despair, weeping with tearless cries at my fate and then, minutes later, laughing hystically. I took to clawing at my face from time to time. I never broke my skin. It wasn't my intent to make myself bleed. Honestly, I don't know why I did that, perhaps for taste of physical sensation, but whatever, does it matter? It was madness, all of it, madness. September 23, 2005 3:00 AM Periodically I took sips at my drinks. I had done well in being conservative without forcing myself to withhold to a dangerous point, which was encouraging (as much as I could feel encouragement, at least). As I continued on, I asked God for more miracles but I felt he had still abandoned me, and I began to wonder who it was I was asking for help. My faith was breaking. It was not faith in God's existance that I doubted, it was that he cared about what happened to me or that he had ever been involved in any of this. Perhaps I had been tossed to chance and fate all along? These things I held very much in question. I teetered on a very dangerous spiritual platform, but I did not give in. Like Job, I, too, refused to curse God or doubt his sovereignty, but I could not find it in me to believe that a greatrer good was at work in the situation. It was darkness and evil, all of it, and I could find no spiritual comfort. Joy and hope did not existed in me now, and I wondered if they even existed in the world at all. It was three in the morning, I noted. Judging by the landmarks around me I hadn't made much progress in the last hour. I should be close to Columbus now, but I was still several miles away and moving very slowly. That, too, ate at my mind down to the nub of my soul. If it was possible, I seemed to be slowing the closer I got to Columbus. Next to me, the west service road was mostly open and moving at a good pace. Common logic would suggest that it would make an acceptable alternative. I would be doing between thrity to fourty miles per hour if I were on the service road, as oppose to my current speed of an impressive five miles per hour on the highway. But I didn't trust the service road. For one thing, when not in a major city, you can never depend on a service road to be consistant. It could easily end, or become a two-way road, or veer far from the highway and go who-knows-where without offering me a chance to get back on the highway. All of these were far too common for middle-of-nowhere highway service roads. Or even more properable, everyone else would get the same idea and clog the service road worse than the highway. So I decided against getting off. I would wait for a posted sign that told me that the road goes to Columbus before exiting. And so I went on, and on, and on. Ahead of me was a never-ending sea of red tail lights and brake lights, and to the left of me was the never-ending sound of sirens. There was nothing else, nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I crept on, it seemed that Columbus was getting farther way, not closer. However it was possible, somehow the traffic was getting slower. Still the option to exit onto the service road presented itself, but I resisted, finding the idea still unwise. I had made enough mistake that day, I told myself, no need to compound them. Still I went on. I thought of San Antonio, my destination. It was no longer a real thing, as people know reality. It was a far off place, beyond reach. The reality of San Antonio and me no longer existed. I remembered a time when it was otherwise, when I believed I would make it, and also of times when I had been there visiting my family. So long ago, so far away it all seemed. What would happen now? All I could see before me in my minds-eye was a gray wall. If I could just make it to Columbus, maybe I could change the possible realities that lay before me. If only... If only... September 23, 2005 3:30 AM I should have been to Columbus by now. Why hadn't I made it? The road signs said it was about three (or maybe it was four) miles away. That should only require a few more minutes to reach, but now I didn't know. This road was a trap, I had to find a way off, had to find another possiblity. Nothing else mattered, only that. I decided to take the service road, even if I was still a couple of miles from my assigned exit. Traffic was building up on the service road but it was still moving at a decent pace. Maybe I was right to suspect the stability and wisdom behind taking the service road, but I no longer cared. I couldn't go on like this. The crack in the glass of my mind's eye had deepened too far, and my sanity couldn't last even such a short distance. September 23, 2005 3:40 AM At last I saw an exit ramp that went up to the service road. For a second the flow seemed faster, but even before I got onto the service road it slowed to a crawl. I looked ahead of me and nothing was moving. I looked back down to the highway and it was still barely moving. Had I exited earlier, I would have had a few miles of free-flowing traffic, but at this point, even the service road had been overloaded with evacuees just as I feared. Everything I had tried had failed. Everything I had done was wrong. I could not get away. I was trapped and at the end of my rope. With that, the pane glass window of my mind eye's shattered and David Furr, as I knew him, was no more. The Desperate Road had not only beaten me, it had broken me -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/12/06 10:05pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Fourty-Three: The Taste of Strawberries with Cream The surrounding landscape was little more than ash and stone. The sky was thick and gray, the heat of the air beat mercilessly down on all who walked through this dry and thirsty land. Up a hill of rock staggered two lone figures. They were short in stature and humbly dressed in clothing that was taggered and torn from the long journey. Their skin was sweaty and bruised and their hair tangled and dirty, but they paid their appearance littlemind. It didn't matter, nothing mattered but their goal. Far from home, these two hobbit wandered through the land of Mordor. They had reached the base of Mount Doom, their goal. Sharp rocks cut at their feet as they climbed the steep incline which led to the mountain pass. The climb would have been difficult enough, but they were already exhausted beyond measure. Samwise stumbled and tripped then picked himself up only to trip again. Frodo marched on, his steps growing shorter and shorted. His eyes, glazed over, could no longer focused on anything. He could see Mount Doom, but he could see nothing else. He step forward, his foot coming down on the side of a large rock. His balance wavered in that moment and he fell. A sharp pain shot through his body as he hit the ground, but he did not let that stop him. Though he could not find the strength to stand, he clawed at the ground and pulled himself forward. Samwise crawled along side him and they continued on until, at last, Frodo's strength failed him and he sagged helplessly to the ground. Samwise pulled himself alongside Frodo. Picking his dear friend and traveling companion's head off the ground, he rested it in his arms. Frodo looked up, past Sam, as if he were not even there. The look of despair in his good friend's eyes tore at Sam, and he searched for some source of encouragement. Then, as if a vision, it came to him. "Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo?" * * * * September 23, 2005 3:45 AM I had made it onto the service road, for what good that had done. The only comfort this folley gave me was that the highway now moved just as slow. It was now only a matter of where did you want to come to a hault; here, on the highway, on the contra-flow lane? All choices led to the same result. So many cars, so many people, yet in this crowd no one could find help or comfort. There was only death and madness. Somewhere close by, another ambulance rushed along. I studied my surroudnings. The baren landscape had been replaced by one with trees. I could see no more than that, but there were trees. Along the highway billboards stood promising rest and food at popular chain establishments located off nearby exits. They seemed so out of place, so foreign, as if placed there by alien beings who did not know what they were for or where they should go. I pressed forward along the road. I am not sure what I did while I was driving at this point. I think I was shouting at my dash board and beating at my steering wheel, while periodically laughing for no good reason -- well, something along those lines. Maybe I did nothing at all. Either way, it was all the same. Time no longer appeared to me as one would think. I was a broken shell of a man, and in my mind I was dying. It is said by many that Hell is merely being cut off from God. By this definition, I felt as if I was in Hell, and I railed against it. I think, somehow, I managed to keep my outward composer, for anyone who glanced in my direction seemed to take no notice of anything strange or disturbing. * * * * "Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It will be spring soon. The orchids will be in blossem and the birds will be nestled in the hazzel thicket and they'll be sowing the silver barley in the lower fields..." * * * * September 23, 2005 4:00 AM The service road suddenly stopped being a two-lane, one direction road heading west, and each lane now went in different directions. There was no official contra-flow lane set up for this occurance, but the evacuees did not care. We made it a contra-flow lane. Still, the sudden change of the lanes threw us off and there was a bottle neck forming to adjust for it. Working my way around it, I pressed on. Even on the service road there was a heavy volume of cars parkedalong the sides. A bunch of them were crammed in small parking lot for a business that appeared to be closed. I noted the different types of people who were strained there. Somehow, these surroundings seemed bleaker than the rest and this people especially foresaken because of it. I noted one group of people that were just ahead me on the side. They looked to be a shifty bunch, not anyone you'd want to cross. They were young, caucasion males.. They had this rugged southern look about them intermixed with the appearance of a gang member. They were not stranded. They had pulled ovr to review a map. The site of them made me nervous. They looked dangerous, like they were ready to loot any car that passed if it so suited them. And who would there be to stop them if they did? There had been reports, too, stories of shooting and fights breaking out, and these seemed like they type of people who would cause such an incident, a thought that made me all the more nervous. If only I had some sort of weapon, I thought to myself, a gun, perhaps, I could be safe from them. A gun. Then the thought came to me. If I had a gun, I would have a way -- a way out of this nightmare. If I had a gun, I could choose whether I lived or whether I died. I would have the option, just the option of leaving this road forever. Even though I had no weapon, that thought took away my fear. Now, it didn't matter to me if I made these rough and shady characters angry. It didn't matter at all. None of it did. * * * * "Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It will be spring soon. The orchids will be in blossem and the birds will be nestled in the hazzel thicket and they'll be sowing the silver barley in the lower fields, and eating the first of the strawberries with cream." * * * * September 23, 2005 4:10 AM Everything that was of this life was lost to me. When my gas tank was emptied, like a man driven, I would continue, abandon my car, and walk until my body gave out. It would either be the last thing of this world I would leave behind, or I would find my way.. someplace... first. The thought of leaving my car in the middle of nowhere, probably to be destroyed or stolen, didn't bother me -- even if my insurance wouldn't cover it. It didn't seem to matter. This life was lost to me now. While I was here, I was alone in the dark. If I passed beyond this life, I could rejoin God and be in the light once more. Like a tunnel under a mountain which a train must pass before seeing the sun again, so was this life now. Rita would wipe Houston clean, anyway. There would be nothing to go back to. As long as I had life, I had only to go away from it. But to what I went, I did not know. A new life, a frightening one at that, or home at least to be with my Lord and God. However, if that happened, it would not be for hours still, and that thought, the thought of more of this, was unbarable. I wept at the thought that I would see another hour, then wondered if I would. Traffic stopped moving. I looked over at the highway. It wasn't moving there either. So I waited, and I waited. September 23, 2005 4:30 AM My mind was in chaos now. I couldn't even beginning to tell you what I was thinking for certainity. Tortured rambling passed through my brain and, from time to time, onto my lips. There was an unspoke rule of the evacuation - you did not pass on the shoulder. Sure that's also state law, but following conventional traffic laws was a matter of honor in these situations, nothing more. At this point, I no longer cared. I figured the worse that would happen is someone who was dangerous and more fed up than I would attack and kill me, and I did not fear that any longer. So, I got onto the shoulder and moved forward. Going was slow. The shoulder was narrow, and periodically the path was blocked with people parked. From time to time, another car would cut in front of me and do the same. After a time, even the shoulder was clogged with traffic. The service road then began to turn. Bit by bit I realized that I was moving away from I-10. The last I saw of the road was a big sign that said "Exit Columbus, two miles". So that was that, uh? I-10 no longer had a service road. The road I traveled turned gradually north, away from Columbus and away from San Antonio. I found myself moving forward off the map into the south Texas countryside. There were no street lights or signs to guide the way before me, only the red glow of tail-lights, packed in all around me. For myself, I didn't mind this bitter twist of fate. I had fo und my "something different". But for my family, now they never would know what had become of me. The trees came up around me, blocking out the star light, and I was engrossed in total darkness. * * * * "Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It will be spring soon. The orchids will be in blossem and the birds will be nestled in the hazzel thicket and they'll be sowing the silver barley in the lower fields, and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?" Frodo's dry lips parted and his hollow voice gasped a reply. "No, Sam, I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I'm alone, naked in the dark with nothing, no vail, between me and the wheel of fire!! I can see it -- with my waking eyes!!" * * * * And that was how it finally ended. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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DarthTunick Title: Arena's Streak for Colors Host Registered: Nov '00	Date Posted: 6/12/06 10:23pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Your sanity or the end of the story? -----signature----- September 11th, 2001 -Never forget Viva Los Angeles! RIP, Cody "Snowball" Reeves, 1978-2008. Lawrence Tanter is my homeboy. 2009-2010 L.A. Lakers: 10-3, my record at Staples Center: 0-1
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Healer_Leona Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Jul '00	Date Posted: 6/13/06 3:58am Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Catching up here. She died a needless death -- scared, confused, hot and thirsty. She died because of me, because of my fear. At this point I began to slip in and out of various stages of the madness. Sometimes I would be overcome with grief and despair, weeping with tearless cries at my fate and then, minutes later, laughing hystically. I took to clawing at my face from time to time. I never broke my skin. It wasn't my intent to make myself bleed. Honestly, I don't know why I did that, perhaps for taste of physical sensation, but whatever, does it matter? It was madness, all of it, madness. I could never even begin to relate to how difficult, how scary this was. -----signature----- Break away from everybody Break away from everthing If you can't stand the way this place is Take yourself to higher places
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/13/06 4:26pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Your sanity or the end of the story? In a way. It's actually a reference to a previous chapter, the chapter before the Desperate Road section of the book. There is more, though... -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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GIMER Title: YJCC Manager Registered: Nov '00	Date Posted: 6/14/06 8:24am Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	posting to bookmark. -----signature----- "Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea." - Robert A. Heinlein (Ward Room #320) Sometimes people leave you halfway through the woods.
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/15/06 8:59pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Fourty-four: The miracle in Columbus (Grace Like Rain, verse 2) The room around me was dimly lit. Only a single lamp shone, and no light from outside to aid it. The walls were a wooden brown, which also didn't help add anything of brightness to the room. Next to me was large, padded chair, but I paid it on mind, giving no thought to sitting and resting. Instead, I stared blankly into the nothing of my own thoughts. There was something about this room that reminded me of the past, a past long since gone. That was, perhaps, because it was built about the time I was born and had barely been redecorated since. In this room of past and memories I stood. Soon I would stand in front of a group of my fellow believers and I would teach them something about Jesus which they may or may not have known. The lesson had taken a long time to prepare and I had gone over the notes multiple times. Yet I did not feel ready. My mind wasn't in the here and now, it wasn't on the lesson I was about to teach, it was somewhere else, miles away and days ago at the place where God had begun to teach me this night's Bible lesson with first hand experience September 23, 2005 4:40 AM The road continued to curve into the blackness of night. There was no sign of I-10 behind me. That seemed oddly comforting, even though I didn't know where I was going now. Whereever it was, I wasn't the only one going. The road was packed thick, but not so thick that we couldn't make progress. I was moving, as I recall, about 15 miles per hour at this point. Overall better than I had done up to then. The road winded into a long bridge with a metal frame. It was an old fashion bridge. I used to see bridges like this in south Texas when I was younger, but I hadn't seen one in a long time. It seemed out of place, as if out of time. I couldn't tell you why, but for some reason that made me feel a bit more uneasy. I didn't want to cross this bridge, nor see what lay beyond. My desires, though, did not figure into it. There was no place to go but forward, so I went on. September 23, 2005 4:45 AM It wasn't long before I discovered my newfound destination. A sign ahead of me said I was approaching Highway 71. For a moment, this turn in my favor seemed confusing, but as the road bent back west again, I realized, being that 71 is a north/south highway, that it would have to cut across it sooner of later. So it made sense. It made even more sense as I pressed on for another mile. The black outline of trees started to give way. There were lights up ahead and buildings -- not many buildings, mind you, and not big ones. There was also a sign that welcomed me to Columbus. It was then I realized; the service road for I-10 had turned into the business "highway" (if you could call it a highway) for Columbus. It was the long way through town, with I-10 proper being the short way. (That is shorter, had there been no evacuation.) The road ran through the center of Columbus and towards the down town area. Being that it is not a major city, the street lights were few. Each light stood illumating a small patch of road, but combined it gave the town a soft white glow, almost eire in the dead of night. The fact that it was still the dead of night also added to the eireness of my surroundings, because it lay in sort of a contradication to the circumstances. The evacuation routes were all crowded and filled with people, so no matter were you were along the route it gave off a sense of an urban enviroment, even on the desolute stretches of I-10. Here, however, the town seemed to sleep in ignorant bliss of what was transpiring in its very streets. A constant stream of cars, bumper to bumper cruised slowly through, but unlike the rest of the Desperate Road there were no cars parked or stalled along the sides. The horror of the evacuation lay only on the road itself and did not touch the rest of the town. As I crept along and admired the serenity of the town around me. I toyed with the idea of stopping here and finding a place to stay. An entertaining idea, but not a practicle one. Although there was probably a hotel around somewhere, it was undoubtedly overrun with evacuees. Where else could I stay? Perhaps I could go door to door, or find a church. I dismissed all these ideas as mere mussings of the madness. Although it seemed serene, I had visions of of Rita coming through and causing havok. I was sure that Columbus was far enough away from Rita to avoid the worst of it, but if I could find no place to stay and was forced into the streets when the hurricane passed over, that could be disasterous, or so I believed. And so I pressed on. September 23, 2005 5:00 AM The down town strip was filled with red lights. Given the volume of cars, even just a hand full of short redlights was too much. Traffic came to a complete stop and even when the lights were green, it rarely moved. I hunted for something to tell me where Highway 71 was. Arrows pointed that the junction was just ahead, but I had my fill of sitting and waiting and getting no where. The time for alternative and decisive action had come, and so I turned down a small side street and left the highway. I was now in the heart of Columbus's residental district. Having been born and raised in Texas and having spent time in towns both large and small all my life, the housing surrounding me now appeared just as I would have expected. They were older houses and neighborhoods that had a sense of history about them. Had I been in Houston, one might have considered this to be an "unsafe" neighborhood. But in the heart of small town Texas, it was homey, safe and quant. I'm not a good judge of how old houses are, for any certainity, but the neighborhoods I drove through were probably half a century old, or older. The streets themselves were narrow and worn, yet paved well enough for a smooth ride. There were no evacuation cars along these streets, and no reason for there to be, either. These roads led no where except to more houses. I weaved my way up and down these streets, Normally I would say that I hoped to find my way to Highway 71 taking the back streets, but no longer comprehending hope, I can only say I did this because it seemed better than the alternative. I had no idea how lost I would get trying to take this shortcut, or how much time I would waste doing this, nor did I care. Better put, I did care, and the thought of getting lost grinded on my nerves, but compared to everything else it was more of a background noise in my mind. Being off the evacuation route and in the quite of this neighborhood gave me a tranquil feeling. The peace of it was interupted periodically by quick flashes in my mind of high winds and heavy, piercing rain beating at the doors and windows of these houses. I shook off such thoughts, though, and pressed on. Eventually the constant flow of forward then left led me to what appeared to be a fairly major street that had to the northern side of down town. I had found my way through the maze. Instead of feeling releaved at this fact, I felt uneasy. I should by on Highway 71 in just a few seconds, then I would see what new horror awaited me. The street came out about two blocks north, or so, of down town. To my left was the former service road of I-10 packed with the mass of traffic I had left behind. I looked to my right to see what now awaited me and I saw.... ...nothing. A few cars raced north towards Austin, but by in large northbound to Highway 71 was free and clear. Again, grace like rain, poured down on me. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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Darth-Stryphe Title: Former Mod and City Rep Registered: Apr '01	Date Posted: 6/15/06 9:00pm Subject: RE: The Desperate Road, a first hand account of the Houston/Rita evacuation
	Chapter Fourty-five: North by Northwest The future was no longer a gray wall that lay ahead of me. It was still clouded, like a thick morning mist that incircles and obscores all views both forward and behind, leaving those who are caught in it to wander ahead and wonder at what waits with each passing step. September 23, 2005 5:15 AM Highway 71 seemed open enough. I wasn't the only car on it, but there weren't many others beside me. After a couple of more minutes of driving I was free of the Columbus city limits. Once passed the city's bordrs, the highway opened up to over 60 miles per hour. I was fearful that any minute I would hit a backup again. I remembered the time, only a few hours earlier when I hit the flow on I-10 that moved at 40 miles per hour, then moments later gridlocked as it always had. Every attempt to escape the monster that was traffic had failed and I had no illusions this would turn out for the better, either. I went this way simply because I couldn't bare the sight or thought of I-10 any longer. There were no longer any abandoned cars on the roadside, no hopeless masses. It was pitch black, still, of course, but here it appeared to be nothing more than a normal night. Yet the traffic did not return. With each passing mile, the road became more open, free of cars aside from a few who didn't even look like they were evacuees. It took me a while, but after making it about five miles or so outside of Columbus without running into any further gridlock of it I realized that I had done it, I had escaped. I took the time to offer up my thanks to the Lord for this most generous blessing and pleaded with Him that it should continue. It did. I could easily have been going 70 mph, but choose not to. I had less than half a tank, and I had not studied the map close enough to know how far away Austin was. Even if I had enough to get to Austin, that wasn't my end goal. It was anyone's best guess as to whether or not Austin had any gas. With Austin as a primary route for the evacuation, I had to be realistic and not make any definite plans that they would. That being so I had to make sure I could get as far as possible. Even if I ran out in Austin, the overall situation would be good. I knew people in Austin. My parents have some good friends who live there -- although I didn't know how to reach them. Still, I could find ways to contact them and that made for a better set of circumstances overall. The important thing is that I make it at least to Austin. And so, I decided to drive under the speed limit to save on fuel. At the same time I wanted to assure I made it northward as quickly as possible, so I opted on 55 to 60 mph with very little AC. Being still night, not having the AC was barable. A bit uncomfortable, but bearable. I would run it some, enough to cool things down, then rely on the fans for the rest. September 23, 2005 5:30 AM I was beginning to feel more at ease with the journey. Still no backup. If I was going to hit it, I should have hit some by now. Of course, anything was still possible, but even so, a sense of hope returned to me and with it a bit of light It was almost like I was feeling the sensation for the first time, and I didn't know what to do with it. Mostly, though, I was focused. There was relief, but there was also anxiety and uncertainity. I found it best to not worry about the future, enjoy the moment and just drive. And it did feel sooo good to be driving, really driving, once again. I saw a couple of gas stations up ahead. They both had lines. This seemed odd. Oh, every station I had encountered that day had lines, that wasn't the odd part. The odd thing was that when I had seen the long lines they were all either in Houston or along the evacuation route. There was no evacuation mass traffic here, hardly any traffic at all. So where where did all these cars come from? I pulled in, wondering if they had any gas. It was doubtful, but it looked to me that all the cars were in line at a single pump, which to me suggested that they had found a pump that worked. I went inside and asked the guy at the counter if they had any gas. He shook his head no. Even as he did so, though, someone came in from a car that was parked at the pump and said it wouldn't take his credit card. I assumed the clerk would tell him that it was empty, since that is what he told me, but he took the person's card, ran it and then they went out and proceeded to put gas in the car. I pondered getting in line for that pump, but it was a very long line and all my patience, all of it, had been spent. Even if it was a calcuated error, I couldn't stay and wait in anymore long lines. I had to keep moving. The gas station had something that was far more interesting to me than gas. Across from where I stood was a series of wall coolers all stocked with beverages of many kinds. It was such a beautiful sight. I wasted no time and quickly took several bottles of water. As I stood in line to pay, it occured to me I should take advantage of the stop to figure out just where I was going, anyway. Sure, I knew Highway 71 headed towards Austin, but when would I get there? I stopped the lady in line waiting in front of me and asked. She told me I was about 80 miles away. That close? That didn't seem right. She assured it was - give or take. (Funny enough, when I later looked at a map, it was actually closer than that) "And from there to San Antonio?" I asked. "Oh, if you're going to San Antonio, you need to go south of here and hit I-10." I laughed at her (not rudely, I hope). "There is nothing south of here," I told her. With that, I pressed on. I stopped at one more nearby station to see if they had gas. Noting that they did not, I drove on. September 23, 2005 5:45 AM The isolation of my surroundings was very eire. While I spent much of the night driving in the middle of the nowhere, I wasn't aware of what an impact it made being surrounded by so many cars. Make no mistake, I was totally thrilled to be driving at normal speeds on an empty highway, even though it was still black outside and I was in the countryside. It was just that - how to describe - I had felt so alone amongst so many for so long that now that I was actually alone, I just didn't know what to think of it. It was as if the apocalypse had come and taken everyone away, and I was the only person in the entire world. I was passing through La Grange now. La Grange is not a town many people have heard of. It's quite small and I wasn't even aware I would be passing it. What is its signifance you ask? La Grange is the first overnight stop in a massive two-day bike ride called the BP MS 150. It is a charity ride for MS which is sponsered by BP. The cyclists ride from west Houston to La Grange, then from La Grange on to Austin Texas. Its a huge deal in Houston. They have 13,000 people each year who ride in it and all the major corperations sponser teams. Back in 2003, Robby Robins orginized a team that was composed mostly of people from the single's group at Bammel Church of Christ called Traveling Light. It was his intention to not only put together a Christian cycling team for the fun of it, but more importantly he created it as a ministry. Over the past three years Traveling Light has grown to not just include the singles from our church, but people of all ages and from other churches, as well as close friends and co-workers. Its become a wonderful mission work, and there are many amazing stories Robby could share on how it had touched many people's lives. While I am not a cyclest, just five months earlier I had joined Travel Light as a volunteer and had been out in La Grande helping prepare food for the riders and cheering them on as they came in. It reminded me of what was both a tough (in the physical sense, even volunteering makes for a lot of work and long weekend) and a wonderful weekend with my Christain family. It seemed so long ago, even though it was just five months past. I wondered if they were all OK. No matter what they had done, evacuated or not, I had to wonder at their fate and could no longer assume they were perfectly safe. At the same time, there was a reassurance I felt inside of me that told me not to worry about them, they would be fine. Thinking of the church also reminded me of the spiritual plight I was in. I had existed in the mindset for a couple of hours now that God had abandoned me and left me to suffer, possibly die. He hadn't, of course, and I was seeing that now. The thought of such a loss of faith deeply troubled me and I found myself at a loss of words, unable to think of what I should say to God other than to 'thank you'. Beyond that I felt... defeated. No, more than that. I had been a fool in so many ways the last 24 hours, and the doubt of my heart was the crowning achievement of that foolishness. Inside, I was still dead. For the moment, though, I shrugged it off. Not because it didn't matter, but because it wasn't over. I still had many miles yet to go before making it to San Antonio, some of which I would have to do without my car, so I focused on the moment and the journey at hand. -----signature----- Lord of the Script, it's FABULOUSO: http://boards.theforce.net/Star_Wars_Community/b10012/8237772/p1 The Desperate Road: http://boards.theforce.net/your_jedi_council_community/b10008/23481819/p1 I love you, lonely Dewback on the ridge Az Isten áldjon meg!
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