Watty's Wild Underwater Interstate Adventure, Part 1

It was 6 PM on a typical Thursday. KarenD and I had just finished aerobics class and I was looking forward to hurrying home and getting to bed early. Dinner was sounding better by the minute, also, as all I had consumed that day was some breakfast yogurt, a Starbucks mocha, a granola bar, and four Saltines. I planned to cook when I got home, but to stave off my dizzying hunger pains, I stopped in at my favorite Skinny's gas station to pick up some water and peanuts. As the weather was cloudy but rain was barely sprinkling, I barely even paid attention to the National Weather Service bulletins on the radio announcing thunderstorm warnings and alerting the public of the fact that motorists account for almost all flash flood deaths.

Snacking on my peanuts, I set off down the country road that would take me home. The rain was falling steadily now, and I noticed with some concern that the drainage ditches were getting pretty full of water. A little further down, I crossed a dip where water was spilling across the road. I was part of a great caravan of cars, so I kept an eye on the vehicles in front of me as we drove into worsening conditions. I began to hit panic mode when the water was rushing across the road fast enough to have developed rapids. About halfway to my house, I was stopped by a volunteer fireman who told me the rest of the road was closed. Somewhat relieved, I turned around and drove back through a couple of rapid water crossings. But before I got very far, I was stopped again. The road was also closed going back into Waco.

I rolled down my window and shouted through the downpour at the fireman directing traffic. "How can I get back to Waco?" He pointed at a small farm to market road and gave me complicated directions, which of course I did not retain in my memory. This new route turned out to be just as treacherous as the road I had just been turned away from. The weather bulletins had my full attention now, and I began to cry as I imagined myself being swept away to my death by the muddy water. Apparently I am not as reconciled to the idea of my own demise as I might have guessed, as my tears quickly escalated into a full fledged panic attack. I began to hyperventilate, and at one point even slowed to a stop on the side of the road because of dizziness. But the rain kept falling, and I tried to force myself to calm down. As I resumed driving, I recited all of the Bible verses and sang all the hymns I could think of. (If you've ever seen the original Little House movie, and remember the scene where Caroline thinks that Indians are attacking while Charles is gone, and she sings to comfort herself as she sits in her rocking chair holding the shotgun, you can imagine what I sounded like.)

Approximately an hour and half later, I was back in Waco, and I called Stephen from the safety of the Beatnix parking lot. I asked him what I should do. I did not want to spend the night in Waco, because I did not have any clean clothes or makeup with me, and the next day was Grandparents Day at school. But I was also terrified to try to drive home another way in case I ran into similar difficulties.

Stephen assured me that my safest bet was to try to drive up I-35 to Hillsboro. Since I was afraid of the condition of the country road that would take me home from Hillsboro, Stephen agreed to start driving that direction from our house, and promised to call me and tell me to turn around if the road ended up being impassable. He was going to put the dinner he so kindly cooked for me into the fridge, lock up the dogs, and get on the road. I was to carefully make my way north from Waco, and we planned to meet at the Hillsboro Starbucks in about an hour.

This post is getting long and my allotted time for recreational writing is up. Stay tuned for Part II of Watty's Underwater Interstate Adventure, which will hopefully be posted tomorrow. I have disabled comments so that if you already know the ending of this story, you can't spoil it for everybody else.