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dragoness_eI find it very hard to write about our journey north. Obviously, we got somewhere, or I wouldn't be posting this--but the trip out was far tougher on body and spirit than riding out the storm was.
As mentioned previously, the daughter got off to college relatively uneventfully. My husband drove his car, and after getting everything packed up, Mom and I took her car. Well, after getting Mom packed up. If you remember, I only brought 2-3 days of clothes with, and they were getting pretty ripe now. Mom, knowing now that we were going to be gone for an indefinitely long time, packed for a rather longer trip.
The plan was to go up our usual route to Tennessee, via I-59, with my husband following in his car. I'd heard something on the radio about the eye passing over Hattiesburg, and suggested tentatively that we go up I-55 instead, as I-59 might have a few problems. However, the several hours extra that would add on to our trip caused some debate--Mom's back hurt her, and taking longer than necessary would be rough on her. So, we decided to go up I-59. We had no idea what we were getting into, and no way to find out. Only radio stations were still talking about what was going on in New Orleans; we didn't even know what path the storm had taken. No TV, no phone, no cell phones, no Internet, no information at all.
The Search for a Road
We got to the start of I-59 without trouble, but then the first intimations of what was to come started. Pine trees lay across half the road; it was only safe to drive in the left lane. The right was frequently blocked by a fallen tree. We lost track of my husband shortly after that--he passed us, zoomed out of sight, not to be seen again until we finally got to Tennessee a day later.
At the time, though, Mom and I thought we'd catch up to him sooner or later. Worst case, we'd meet him at our pre-arranged rendezvous at Meridian. We didn't suspect we'd never get to Meridian.
For a while, it wasn't too bad--the left lane was clear, and there was an occasional tree on the right side. Somewhere between Picayune and Poplarville, we passed the National Guard truck that was clearing the left lane.
The left lane deteriorated to a narrow, pine-needle paved track weaving between cut ends of pine trees; the right lane was completely impassable. Uh-oh. Mile after mile of this--I-59 looked like a one lane dirt track in the woods. Then we met the cars coming down the
road from the opposite direction.
We had to pull over to the right, when there were gaps between fallen trees, to let the opposing traffic through. Why were these people going south on the northbound lane? I could see, through the trees on the median, traffic moving south in the proper southbound lane. Why were these people here?
Eventually we had to stop for a while. Two young men in a pickup truck ahead of us jumped out with chainsaws and ran forward. A bit later we saw them coming back, and asked them what was going on. They didn't know; all they knew was they had to get through to Poplarville. "We've got folks there, and want to make sure they're okay."
The road improved immensely when we got to Hattiesburg. Both lanes cleared with only the occasional fallen tree. My spirits lifted; surely we were clear of the worst and could keep going now! Hopefully we could get gas here.
We could not get gas in Hattiesburg. There was no power, and thus no pumps could run. No gas, no food to be had. All we had to eat was the basket of food I had packed along. Nothing to do but head north and hope for better conditions.
As we drove north on I-59, I noticed that there was a fair amount of traffic on State 49. It seemed heavy for purely local sight-seeing; perhaps 49 was open? I noted that and drove north on I-59.
Once we left the Hattiesburg area, the trees closed in again. I-59 was back to being a one-lane dirt track through fallen timber. I was starting to dislike southern pines. That, and we were back to traffic that didn't know which way it was going--little bunches of cars going
back south on the northbound side.
This continued until we came to the end of a line of halted northbound cars and trucks. Not good. I got out and looked ahead; more cars. Suddenly, they started moving. I jumped back in the car and started it up again. We inched forward a few car lengths, then
stopped again.
Waited a bit. Got out again and walked forward, asking people what was going on. Someone said they were still clearing the road, and it might be hours before we could move. Suddenly cars started coming southbound from somewhere ahead. Word was passed; we were going to go back to the last crossover and go north on the southbound side.
Turned the car around and worked past the other vehicles, going south now. Got to the crossover. I didn't like the look of northbound on the southbound lanes--decided I-59 was obviously a bad deal. We should go back to I-12 and cut-over to I-55 and go north on it. Mom wished she'd stayed home. I wished we'd gone up I-55 like I wanted to in the first place. It became a chorus between us over the next several hours.
Unfortunately, traffic going south on the southbound side was also halted. Asked a Mississippi DOT guy what was going on, which way we should go to get to Meridian. He had no idea; he just knew northbound traffic was supposed to be on the northbound side and southbound traffic on the southbound side.
People going south got tired of waiting in line; a sizeable contingent pulled off, turned around, and went back to the crossover and headed north again. Maybe they'd heard something? We followed them. Still nothing on the radio about highway conditions, nothing was marked, no cops around directing traffic. What used to be a lovely four-lane
interstate highway was a clear lane-and-a-half going south, and a one-lane track around fallen trees going north. Cars full of families not knowing where to go to get where they needed to be, but following the latest rumor or guess shouted from car to car. It was surreal.
We got back on the northbound side going north again. We passed where we'd been halted before; that was promising. Also, this whole time, I hadn't seen my husband's car coming back. If he'd made it through, it must be clear ahead. (What I didn't know is that he'd already passed me going back south, and I'd missed him while I was zoned out in the
heat).
Again, we hit the back of a line of cars. It inched ahead once, and then stopped. I got out to see what was going on. A few cars ahead, someone's pickup was stopped under a bridge, and people were sitting around in the shade. Far ahead, I could see the back ends of more trucks, sitting idle. I recognized the back end of one of them; I'd seen it hours earlier, the last time we were halted going north. Bad sign.
I got out and walked forward, inquiring of people walking back. Up ahead, the road was blocked; rumor had it they were clearing it slowly. Not good. Nearby, a woman crossed the median and talked to the National Guard truck clearing tress on the southbound side. She brought the word back: the National Guard was clearing the southbound side ONLY, and they had no orders to clear the northbound side yet. The northbound side was blocked.
Very not good. We needed to turn around, but couldn't; too many cars behind us. All these turn-abouts had burned fuel faster than planned; I wanted to get out of there now and find a clear road to somewhere. I thought I could scootch past the lined up cars if I swung out onto muddy shoulder--but Mom vetoed that. She forbade me to take her car onto that shoulder, fearing it would bog down and get stuck. We exchanged harsh words in the heat. Neither of us knew what to do next.
Finally, the woman who'd talked to the National Guard talked the bunch of cars nearby into turning around. When the cars and trucks behind us saw a whole line of cars trying to go back south, they moved their vehicles over and let us pass. The way was clear back to the crossover, again.
This time we went north from the crossover; this time, we were the culprits travelling the wrong way. At least there were two lanes mostly clear on this side, and we moved along at a pretty good clip. Someone else was at the head of the wrong-way line, so I wasn't much worried about running into someone head-on. Across the median, we could see that the northbound side was completely blocked by fallen trees, as yet uncleared.
After a while, we halted again (ignoring a few other halts to work around fallen trees and a parked truck). Now what? Flashing blue lights--Mississippi State Police, at last. Perhaps we could get some official guidance.
We got official guidance, all right! "Turn around and go south!" No arguments; the whole line was turned around and sent south down the road again. No running north on the wrong side.
We stopped briefly by two police cars, state and sheriff's. How could we get to Meridian if they wouldn't let us go north on the southbound side? The sheriff's deputy consulted someone on his radio. "Sorry, no one is allowed into Meridian right now. You can't go north."
Mom was completely deflated. "What do we do? Where do we go now?"
I had one hope. I'd seen traffic on 49. Perhaps the road to Jackson was open; surely Jackson was far enough out of the storm's path that we could get gas, and then we could take I-55 north to Tennessee.
"Back to Hattiesburg. Let's see if 49 north to Jackson is open."
We drove back to Hattiesburg and got on 49 going north. A line of cars at a convenience store beckoned us; perhaps they had gas? No gas, but I talked to a local cop.
"Is 49 north to Jackson open?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you sure we can get through to Jackson?"
"Absolutely."
Some of the most reassuring words I'd heard in a long time. We headed up the road toward Jackson, Mississippi.
The Search for Gasoline
There was one fly in the ointment: gas tank was down to a quarter of a tank. We'd wasted a lot of gas inching up treebound I-59, and in milling about like lost sheep. Did we have enough to get to Jackson, and would we find gas when we got there?
We looked at every gas station and C-store we passed that had people at it, but after wasting time and gas pulling in to look a few times, I learned to check at a glance: did the town have traffic signals working? If not, it had no power and thus no gas. Were people
actually pumping gas and leaving, or just standing around looking hopefully at the gas pumps? We saw lots of the latter, and none of the former.
For some reason, people lined up at BP stations. Not Shell, or Exxon, or independent C-stores--those were closed and deserted. People lined up at BP stations that were closed with no power. Why? We never did find out.
Hattiesburg to Jackson--no gas available. South Jackson--no power, no gas. Tank getting closer to empty. We got on I-55, heading north. Perhaps the north side of town would be better. We came to swaths of town that had lights--power here. Now to find gas.
We found a gas station! Cars were pumping gas--only they were police cars, and several police were waving off others, shouting "Police and emergency vehicles only!". Not us. The low-gas alarm had rung once already, and the needle was pointing just shy of empty. We couldn't go much further.
Well, I suggested, lets at least pull into the C-store here and get something to eat. First open place we've seen in days. We did that, and Mom asked the lady behind the counter where we might find gas. She didn't know of any place.
Mom was despondent. What could we do now? I was starting to feel desperate myself. Finally, Mom went in and talked to the cashier again, who talked with one of the cops. Mom came back and said we were getting gas, much to my surprise.
"What did you say to change their minds?"
"I told that lady I'd have to sleep right here if we didn't get gas".
She put the car in line. One of the cops came and told her to get back out of line, only police and emergency vehicles could get gas here. Mom argued that she'd have to stay there the night if she didn't get gas, and that the other cop had said she could get gas. She pointed to the wrong other cop, who shook his head and denied he'd said any such thing. The first cop got angrier and ordered Mom out of line right now--Mom threatened to turn the car off and leave it right there, blocking the line if she didn't get gas. I started to panic--Mom was going to get us arrested! I tried to calm her down and get her to back down--you don't argue with cops in an emergency situation. Mom was in tears at this point.
I finally pointed out the cop Mom had actually talked to, and the two cops went over to talk with him. They grumpily waved us back into line; we were now allowed gas. I guess they didn't really want to arrest a sobbing 81-year-old woman just for needing enough gasoline to get out of the area.
Then we waited. And waited. The cops ahead of us at the pumps didn't move. Mom was convinced they were taking their time just to spite her and keep her from getting gas. I could hear a bit better; the problem was the pumps had run out of Unleaded and Plus, and the cops had to make sure they had authorization to use the more expensive Premium
grade gas. Finally they got the word that they were to pump anything that got them moving, and the situation was sorted out. We got gas.
I couldn't believe how much better we both felt to have a full tank of gas. We were tired, hadn't had a decent meal all day, were three days ripe without showers, but the sense of absolute desperation was gone.
And we were finally in an area where my cell phone worked. I couldn't phone my husband (and where the heck was he, anyway?) because the phone system insisted it couldn't reach anything in "that area" because of hurricane damage. He was roaming, I was roaming, but the system was still switching us through 504, and that part of the network was still down. However, I could phone my mother-in-law in Tennessee, and after 3 days, was finally able to let her know we were safe. And got word of my husband, who was ahead of us, going north on I-55. He'd run into the same pine-tree hell on I-59 that we did, and had also gone up 49 to Jackson. He got gas at a gas station several exits north, but then, his car gets better gas mileage in the first place. We could never have made it to his gas station.
The Search for a Room
On the road again north. We were tired; I started hitting the caffeine for the first time in years. Even switching drivers, Mom and I were not in the best of shape. We needed to stop for the night, and finish this trip tomorrow.
We checked every exit from Canton to south Memphis. Every motel or hotel, same thing: a sign taped to the office door, sometimes printed, sometimes hand-written: No Vacancies. I'd stop at one or two places per town, and ask the desk clerk if anyone else in town might have a room. Always no. I was warned that I wouldn't find anything this side
of Memphis.
Everywhere, there were families that had evacuated from Lousiana and coastal Mississippi. Northern Mississippi tried to make them welcome; many towns I saw fliers in the hotel offices, announcing church shelters, or churches offering dinners and suchlike to evacuees. God bless you good people.
I worried about Mom. She was tired, and not young or all that healthy to begin with. What if the strain of our exodus was too much, and she got ill? I worried that we'd have to drive all the way to my mother-in-law's house, and I frankly didn't think I could drive that
far. Or that Mom could.
There were no rooms to be had on the southside of Memphis, either. We passeed through Memphis around midnight or one a.m.--at least we missed out on morning rush-hour traffic that way--and headed east on I-40. I had a theory that people who evacuated had gotten rooms in the first motel they could find on the way north, so that once we got off the main north-south road, and went east, we'd be away from where everyone had taken rooms.
The first few exits disappointed me; still all rooms full. Stopped for coffee at a nice little truck stop--two motels at that exit, no vacancies. Mom chatted with an interesting old fellow who told us he built one of those hotels years ago, and was disappointed for us that there were no rooms open. He had a notch out of his ear--a scalloped chunk missing from the top of his ear. I wondered after we left if he'd had an accident at some time, or been in a fight that had gotten seriously nasty. Whichever, he looked like someone who'd lived an interesting life.
I was also amused to note that the public phones in the truck stop also had public data ports. How long before truck stops offer wireless as a standard perk? The Internet is everywhere!
We finally found a room in Brownsville, Tenneesee, at 2 AM. God, we were tired! So tired, neither of us slept worth a damn. Too overtired to sleep well, and then I woke up shortly after it got light, like I usually do. The fact that I was totally wired on caffeine didn't help me sleep, either.
We got hot showers for the first time in three days. I can hardly describe how wonderful that was. It wasn't so wonderful to put on my rank, three-day old clothes the next day, but at least I got to sleep clean.
The next morning, we found a Huddle House down the street and had hot breakfasts. Mmm, wonderful! Mom set out, and a few hours down the road we switched drivers so I could drive the last little bit and show her the secret short-cut to my mother-in-law's house.
At last, we were there, and my husband was waiting for us. After all the greetings, almost the next thing I did was wash a change of clothes, take another shower, and get into clean clothes. Woot!
We later learned that Hurricane Katrina's eye passed over Slidell and pretty much followed I-59 north. When we tried to go up I-59, we were following the path of maximal destruction.
Lessons learned:
As mentioned previously, the daughter got off to college relatively uneventfully. My husband drove his car, and after getting everything packed up, Mom and I took her car. Well, after getting Mom packed up. If you remember, I only brought 2-3 days of clothes with, and they were getting pretty ripe now. Mom, knowing now that we were going to be gone for an indefinitely long time, packed for a rather longer trip.
The plan was to go up our usual route to Tennessee, via I-59, with my husband following in his car. I'd heard something on the radio about the eye passing over Hattiesburg, and suggested tentatively that we go up I-55 instead, as I-59 might have a few problems. However, the several hours extra that would add on to our trip caused some debate--Mom's back hurt her, and taking longer than necessary would be rough on her. So, we decided to go up I-59. We had no idea what we were getting into, and no way to find out. Only radio stations were still talking about what was going on in New Orleans; we didn't even know what path the storm had taken. No TV, no phone, no cell phones, no Internet, no information at all.
The Search for a Road
We got to the start of I-59 without trouble, but then the first intimations of what was to come started. Pine trees lay across half the road; it was only safe to drive in the left lane. The right was frequently blocked by a fallen tree. We lost track of my husband shortly after that--he passed us, zoomed out of sight, not to be seen again until we finally got to Tennessee a day later.
At the time, though, Mom and I thought we'd catch up to him sooner or later. Worst case, we'd meet him at our pre-arranged rendezvous at Meridian. We didn't suspect we'd never get to Meridian.
For a while, it wasn't too bad--the left lane was clear, and there was an occasional tree on the right side. Somewhere between Picayune and Poplarville, we passed the National Guard truck that was clearing the left lane.
The left lane deteriorated to a narrow, pine-needle paved track weaving between cut ends of pine trees; the right lane was completely impassable. Uh-oh. Mile after mile of this--I-59 looked like a one lane dirt track in the woods. Then we met the cars coming down the
road from the opposite direction.
We had to pull over to the right, when there were gaps between fallen trees, to let the opposing traffic through. Why were these people going south on the northbound lane? I could see, through the trees on the median, traffic moving south in the proper southbound lane. Why were these people here?
Eventually we had to stop for a while. Two young men in a pickup truck ahead of us jumped out with chainsaws and ran forward. A bit later we saw them coming back, and asked them what was going on. They didn't know; all they knew was they had to get through to Poplarville. "We've got folks there, and want to make sure they're okay."
The road improved immensely when we got to Hattiesburg. Both lanes cleared with only the occasional fallen tree. My spirits lifted; surely we were clear of the worst and could keep going now! Hopefully we could get gas here.
We could not get gas in Hattiesburg. There was no power, and thus no pumps could run. No gas, no food to be had. All we had to eat was the basket of food I had packed along. Nothing to do but head north and hope for better conditions.
As we drove north on I-59, I noticed that there was a fair amount of traffic on State 49. It seemed heavy for purely local sight-seeing; perhaps 49 was open? I noted that and drove north on I-59.
Once we left the Hattiesburg area, the trees closed in again. I-59 was back to being a one-lane dirt track through fallen timber. I was starting to dislike southern pines. That, and we were back to traffic that didn't know which way it was going--little bunches of cars going
back south on the northbound side.
This continued until we came to the end of a line of halted northbound cars and trucks. Not good. I got out and looked ahead; more cars. Suddenly, they started moving. I jumped back in the car and started it up again. We inched forward a few car lengths, then
stopped again.
Waited a bit. Got out again and walked forward, asking people what was going on. Someone said they were still clearing the road, and it might be hours before we could move. Suddenly cars started coming southbound from somewhere ahead. Word was passed; we were going to go back to the last crossover and go north on the southbound side.
Turned the car around and worked past the other vehicles, going south now. Got to the crossover. I didn't like the look of northbound on the southbound lanes--decided I-59 was obviously a bad deal. We should go back to I-12 and cut-over to I-55 and go north on it. Mom wished she'd stayed home. I wished we'd gone up I-55 like I wanted to in the first place. It became a chorus between us over the next several hours.
Unfortunately, traffic going south on the southbound side was also halted. Asked a Mississippi DOT guy what was going on, which way we should go to get to Meridian. He had no idea; he just knew northbound traffic was supposed to be on the northbound side and southbound traffic on the southbound side.
People going south got tired of waiting in line; a sizeable contingent pulled off, turned around, and went back to the crossover and headed north again. Maybe they'd heard something? We followed them. Still nothing on the radio about highway conditions, nothing was marked, no cops around directing traffic. What used to be a lovely four-lane
interstate highway was a clear lane-and-a-half going south, and a one-lane track around fallen trees going north. Cars full of families not knowing where to go to get where they needed to be, but following the latest rumor or guess shouted from car to car. It was surreal.
We got back on the northbound side going north again. We passed where we'd been halted before; that was promising. Also, this whole time, I hadn't seen my husband's car coming back. If he'd made it through, it must be clear ahead. (What I didn't know is that he'd already passed me going back south, and I'd missed him while I was zoned out in the
heat).
Again, we hit the back of a line of cars. It inched ahead once, and then stopped. I got out to see what was going on. A few cars ahead, someone's pickup was stopped under a bridge, and people were sitting around in the shade. Far ahead, I could see the back ends of more trucks, sitting idle. I recognized the back end of one of them; I'd seen it hours earlier, the last time we were halted going north. Bad sign.
I got out and walked forward, inquiring of people walking back. Up ahead, the road was blocked; rumor had it they were clearing it slowly. Not good. Nearby, a woman crossed the median and talked to the National Guard truck clearing tress on the southbound side. She brought the word back: the National Guard was clearing the southbound side ONLY, and they had no orders to clear the northbound side yet. The northbound side was blocked.
Very not good. We needed to turn around, but couldn't; too many cars behind us. All these turn-abouts had burned fuel faster than planned; I wanted to get out of there now and find a clear road to somewhere. I thought I could scootch past the lined up cars if I swung out onto muddy shoulder--but Mom vetoed that. She forbade me to take her car onto that shoulder, fearing it would bog down and get stuck. We exchanged harsh words in the heat. Neither of us knew what to do next.
Finally, the woman who'd talked to the National Guard talked the bunch of cars nearby into turning around. When the cars and trucks behind us saw a whole line of cars trying to go back south, they moved their vehicles over and let us pass. The way was clear back to the crossover, again.
This time we went north from the crossover; this time, we were the culprits travelling the wrong way. At least there were two lanes mostly clear on this side, and we moved along at a pretty good clip. Someone else was at the head of the wrong-way line, so I wasn't much worried about running into someone head-on. Across the median, we could see that the northbound side was completely blocked by fallen trees, as yet uncleared.
After a while, we halted again (ignoring a few other halts to work around fallen trees and a parked truck). Now what? Flashing blue lights--Mississippi State Police, at last. Perhaps we could get some official guidance.
We got official guidance, all right! "Turn around and go south!" No arguments; the whole line was turned around and sent south down the road again. No running north on the wrong side.
We stopped briefly by two police cars, state and sheriff's. How could we get to Meridian if they wouldn't let us go north on the southbound side? The sheriff's deputy consulted someone on his radio. "Sorry, no one is allowed into Meridian right now. You can't go north."
Mom was completely deflated. "What do we do? Where do we go now?"
I had one hope. I'd seen traffic on 49. Perhaps the road to Jackson was open; surely Jackson was far enough out of the storm's path that we could get gas, and then we could take I-55 north to Tennessee.
"Back to Hattiesburg. Let's see if 49 north to Jackson is open."
We drove back to Hattiesburg and got on 49 going north. A line of cars at a convenience store beckoned us; perhaps they had gas? No gas, but I talked to a local cop.
"Is 49 north to Jackson open?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Are you sure we can get through to Jackson?"
"Absolutely."
Some of the most reassuring words I'd heard in a long time. We headed up the road toward Jackson, Mississippi.
The Search for Gasoline
There was one fly in the ointment: gas tank was down to a quarter of a tank. We'd wasted a lot of gas inching up treebound I-59, and in milling about like lost sheep. Did we have enough to get to Jackson, and would we find gas when we got there?
We looked at every gas station and C-store we passed that had people at it, but after wasting time and gas pulling in to look a few times, I learned to check at a glance: did the town have traffic signals working? If not, it had no power and thus no gas. Were people
actually pumping gas and leaving, or just standing around looking hopefully at the gas pumps? We saw lots of the latter, and none of the former.
For some reason, people lined up at BP stations. Not Shell, or Exxon, or independent C-stores--those were closed and deserted. People lined up at BP stations that were closed with no power. Why? We never did find out.
Hattiesburg to Jackson--no gas available. South Jackson--no power, no gas. Tank getting closer to empty. We got on I-55, heading north. Perhaps the north side of town would be better. We came to swaths of town that had lights--power here. Now to find gas.
We found a gas station! Cars were pumping gas--only they were police cars, and several police were waving off others, shouting "Police and emergency vehicles only!". Not us. The low-gas alarm had rung once already, and the needle was pointing just shy of empty. We couldn't go much further.
Well, I suggested, lets at least pull into the C-store here and get something to eat. First open place we've seen in days. We did that, and Mom asked the lady behind the counter where we might find gas. She didn't know of any place.
Mom was despondent. What could we do now? I was starting to feel desperate myself. Finally, Mom went in and talked to the cashier again, who talked with one of the cops. Mom came back and said we were getting gas, much to my surprise.
"What did you say to change their minds?"
"I told that lady I'd have to sleep right here if we didn't get gas".
She put the car in line. One of the cops came and told her to get back out of line, only police and emergency vehicles could get gas here. Mom argued that she'd have to stay there the night if she didn't get gas, and that the other cop had said she could get gas. She pointed to the wrong other cop, who shook his head and denied he'd said any such thing. The first cop got angrier and ordered Mom out of line right now--Mom threatened to turn the car off and leave it right there, blocking the line if she didn't get gas. I started to panic--Mom was going to get us arrested! I tried to calm her down and get her to back down--you don't argue with cops in an emergency situation. Mom was in tears at this point.
I finally pointed out the cop Mom had actually talked to, and the two cops went over to talk with him. They grumpily waved us back into line; we were now allowed gas. I guess they didn't really want to arrest a sobbing 81-year-old woman just for needing enough gasoline to get out of the area.
Then we waited. And waited. The cops ahead of us at the pumps didn't move. Mom was convinced they were taking their time just to spite her and keep her from getting gas. I could hear a bit better; the problem was the pumps had run out of Unleaded and Plus, and the cops had to make sure they had authorization to use the more expensive Premium
grade gas. Finally they got the word that they were to pump anything that got them moving, and the situation was sorted out. We got gas.
I couldn't believe how much better we both felt to have a full tank of gas. We were tired, hadn't had a decent meal all day, were three days ripe without showers, but the sense of absolute desperation was gone.
And we were finally in an area where my cell phone worked. I couldn't phone my husband (and where the heck was he, anyway?) because the phone system insisted it couldn't reach anything in "that area" because of hurricane damage. He was roaming, I was roaming, but the system was still switching us through 504, and that part of the network was still down. However, I could phone my mother-in-law in Tennessee, and after 3 days, was finally able to let her know we were safe. And got word of my husband, who was ahead of us, going north on I-55. He'd run into the same pine-tree hell on I-59 that we did, and had also gone up 49 to Jackson. He got gas at a gas station several exits north, but then, his car gets better gas mileage in the first place. We could never have made it to his gas station.
The Search for a Room
On the road again north. We were tired; I started hitting the caffeine for the first time in years. Even switching drivers, Mom and I were not in the best of shape. We needed to stop for the night, and finish this trip tomorrow.
We checked every exit from Canton to south Memphis. Every motel or hotel, same thing: a sign taped to the office door, sometimes printed, sometimes hand-written: No Vacancies. I'd stop at one or two places per town, and ask the desk clerk if anyone else in town might have a room. Always no. I was warned that I wouldn't find anything this side
of Memphis.
Everywhere, there were families that had evacuated from Lousiana and coastal Mississippi. Northern Mississippi tried to make them welcome; many towns I saw fliers in the hotel offices, announcing church shelters, or churches offering dinners and suchlike to evacuees. God bless you good people.
I worried about Mom. She was tired, and not young or all that healthy to begin with. What if the strain of our exodus was too much, and she got ill? I worried that we'd have to drive all the way to my mother-in-law's house, and I frankly didn't think I could drive that
far. Or that Mom could.
There were no rooms to be had on the southside of Memphis, either. We passeed through Memphis around midnight or one a.m.--at least we missed out on morning rush-hour traffic that way--and headed east on I-40. I had a theory that people who evacuated had gotten rooms in the first motel they could find on the way north, so that once we got off the main north-south road, and went east, we'd be away from where everyone had taken rooms.
The first few exits disappointed me; still all rooms full. Stopped for coffee at a nice little truck stop--two motels at that exit, no vacancies. Mom chatted with an interesting old fellow who told us he built one of those hotels years ago, and was disappointed for us that there were no rooms open. He had a notch out of his ear--a scalloped chunk missing from the top of his ear. I wondered after we left if he'd had an accident at some time, or been in a fight that had gotten seriously nasty. Whichever, he looked like someone who'd lived an interesting life.
I was also amused to note that the public phones in the truck stop also had public data ports. How long before truck stops offer wireless as a standard perk? The Internet is everywhere!
We finally found a room in Brownsville, Tenneesee, at 2 AM. God, we were tired! So tired, neither of us slept worth a damn. Too overtired to sleep well, and then I woke up shortly after it got light, like I usually do. The fact that I was totally wired on caffeine didn't help me sleep, either.
We got hot showers for the first time in three days. I can hardly describe how wonderful that was. It wasn't so wonderful to put on my rank, three-day old clothes the next day, but at least I got to sleep clean.
The next morning, we found a Huddle House down the street and had hot breakfasts. Mmm, wonderful! Mom set out, and a few hours down the road we switched drivers so I could drive the last little bit and show her the secret short-cut to my mother-in-law's house.
At last, we were there, and my husband was waiting for us. After all the greetings, almost the next thing I did was wash a change of clothes, take another shower, and get into clean clothes. Woot!
We later learned that Hurricane Katrina's eye passed over Slidell and pretty much followed I-59 north. When we tried to go up I-59, we were following the path of maximal destruction.
Lessons learned:
- Pine trees make lousy paving material. They are too lumpy.
- A good road has two clear lanes. All other attributes are luxuries.
- Hot water, hot food, power, and air conditioning are luxuries worth rejoicing over.
- Americans are too dependent on cell phones. We need more ham radio operators.
- Be grateful to have a bed to sleep in. Be doubly grateful if it is your own.
