The Ways My Trip Sucked 6: Boxes and Rain
Archived from October 28, 2007
Boxes
I had planned to send via Amtrak (my first choice in shipping) a few boxes back to LA and a few boxes to PDX for my friends w/ babies to take a look at. I had planned to have the boxes ready to go and get down to Chicago’s Union Station before our 8pm flight. My problem was that my plan involved coercing my “other little brother”, Harry, into driving us down there, kicking it at Union Station, then dropping us off at the airport. The problem with my little plan was that Harry has a life and can’t just drop everything to take me to Chicago. I was feeling super bad about it because he’d asked me to hang out on at least 2 occasions and I can’t remember why but I wasn’t able to do it and I hated that because I really love that guy and feel so flattered that he wanted to hang out. But regardless, Trev and I had planes to catch and boxes to send via Amtrak. We’d planned to leave in the early afternoon, but Harry had stuff to do. Then Harry made an offer I couldn’t refuse: to drop us off for our flight and send the boxes for us the next day. Perfect, I thought. This would give me more time with my dad in beautiful Wisconsin. So we enjoyed ourselves until a little later than we should have. Harry rolled up to take us to Chicago. Hopefully we’d make it all the way down to Chicago’s South Side in time.
Rain
Trevor wanted to drive. No problem. Harry and his lady were in the backseat. We were making reasonable time. As we got into the northern suburbs of Chicago, it started to rain. Then it started to rain really hard. Trevor tried to turn the windshield wipers on. The windshield wipers did not work. Not even a little bit. I stuck my head out the window to help Trevor find an exit. It wasn't like the wipers were stuck or needed to be replaced. The motor was broken. The wipers would never function without professional electrical repair. I called Southwest to find out what we could do about getting on a later flight, since driving was obviously super dangerous. There were no more flights that night. The woman I spoke to said that if we missed our flight we’d have to pay $300 each to get on another flight so we “better get to the airport”. At this point the rain had for all practical purposes stopped. I told the troops what the woman said and we got our asses in gear. I was driving.
On a side note; I am something of a braggart when it comes to driving. I pride myself on my history of safe driving while behind the wheel of ridiculous vehicles in ridiculous circumstances. These primarily involve parts or whole sections of car falling off while en route and/or dangerous or unusual external forces. Most notably “the time I drove a 3 gear, ¾ ton flatbed with bald tires, no insulation and no heat in a blinding blizzard” or “the time I was driving a 1984 Chevy Chevette and the door fell off on the way home, after the muffler fell off in the parking lot of Cub Foods” or “The time I parallel parked a ¾ ton flatbed in the heart of Chicago.” Because of these ego-inflating tales of vehicular triumph/survival, I’m a little cocky when it comes to driving. And I figured if anyone could drive us to the airport it would be me.
I was, as you may have guessed, driving my dad’s boat-like SUV. SUVs are known for tipping over at the drop of a hat and lighting on fire, but that didn’t stop me from cruising at 75-90 mph in tornado warning-style winds, including fog and mist with no windshield wipers at night. The torrential rain started again and I was basically blinded. The rain was coming down hard and the fog was so thick the only guide I had on the road were the white lines. I could barely make them out. I could only see about 1 foot of pavement in front of the car, in the immediate beam of my headlight. Other cars were not helpful guides because their taillights were just smears in my puddle of a windshield. I even tried driving with my head out the window, to no avail. I would just end up drifting left. It was terrifying. My adrenaline was pumping so hard I could hear it. I was trying to drive fast, to get us there on time.
My passengers were all giving me words of encouragement “you’re doing great, Starr.” “You’re great, you’re doing amazing.” “Keep up the excellent work.” It was like I was giving birth - no one can do anything but cheer. Finally it became ridiculous. I might as well have been driving underwater. I realized it was not worth risking our lives to save a few hundred bucks. I had to get off the road, which was a challenge in itself. Fortunately Midwestern drivers are used to foul weather driving and emergency scenarios. I put my hazards on then my turning signal and the cars behind me gave me room to get over to the exit lane. I was just guessing at where the "lanes" might be because I could see even less when I was moving sideways. I still could only see about 1 foot of pavement ahead of the car. I couldn’t see any signs at all, let alone ones indicating the exit I was at, or if I was near an exit at all. I just decided I’d pull over if there was no exit, because I didn't want to die. I followed the shoulder to an exit. This went on WAY longer than I wanted it to, but eventually we made it to an oasis.
At the oasis, I parked on the flooded pavement. We quickly got out of the car and bounced to the building for cover, grateful to have our lives. My three passengers immediately lit up cigarettes. They divulged they were scared out of their minds and had given me encouragement in an effort to not die. We waited out the storm in the Hinsdale Oasis, which I discovered was like 5 miles away from Midway Airport, our destination. I couldn’t be sorry. I was happy. I was happy to not be driving anymore, I was happy to be safe and happy to be with people I love.
<< | Posted by Starr at 8:32 AM |
