| Home | Archives | What This Is | Intro | Comments |    

 

(Continued from (Part III))
  Sometimes, to stand and fight is futile, but to lay down and die is true defeat And, no one likes to admit true defeat… To lay down and live signifies a manner of surrender This may be the true meaning of acceptance: The answer to all my problems today        I lay on the floor with approximately fifty other people.  I wonder how this whole night has come together -- how Alex and I wound up where we are.  Although not being sure where exactly he is at this moment, he is probably okay.  I left him earlier tonight conversing with some fellow ‘endurer’, and felt the need to be alone for a bit.  Escaping, and wandering through the few areas allocated for us, the ‘endurers’, I find a spot in a large conference room, and mark my territory by outlining a four by seven spot on the floor with my belongings.  Although the temperature in here feels near freezing, it is probably consistent through the whole place.  I sit and remove my squeaky sneakers and then the chilled drenched socks.  I reach for the duffel bag, unzip it, and then place it to my side.  Propping up two pillows, that I gathered earlier, against a wall, so they do not seem so flat.  With each dry garment I retrieve from the bag, I cover myself, making a piecemeal blanket.  Feeling defeat and coldness, I know I need some sleep, but my mind just wanders -- There is nothing else left to do today.  There is nothing else that I can do.  Feeling a chill in my right knee, I notice that it has become uncovered.  My hand slips out from under the layer of clothes.  The room’s air chills my skin.  Reaching down, I place another article of clothing from the bag over my legs.  I feel like a mummy.

     Earlier that night, we made it through the state park without anymore hassles: Smashing through the tree forced us to travel cautiously – something I did not want to do in order to make up some lost time.  This whole trip was only supposed to take six hours.  It was nearing the ninth already and we have only traveled one third of the distance.  Growing a little frustrated, I was ready to throw in the towel and finally surrender, but I knew that we needed to progress.  Conversation in the car has reached a lull and stayed that way for quite some time.  At first, the silence bothered me, but not anymore.  It was difficult enough just concentrating on the road.  I grew weary just thinking about driving any further, but longed for the comfort of my own bed.  Alex sat there motionless, blinking every now and then, peering over out the windshield and over the hood of the car.  All the scenery looked the same to me now.  There was a two-lane road covered by a few inches of snow surrounded by snow-covered trees on both sides.  Weather conditions remained constant then actually improved a bit.  It had stopped flurrying and everything seemed very still.
     The road opened up to an approaching a town.  Alex reached for the map, with his finger following the route, noted that we had finally made it across the state border to New York.  We were approaching the town of Port Jervis.  Both of us had forgotten that we were hungry.  We had been driving with infrequent breaks just to visit restrooms and of course, stop for fallen trees.  Upon reaching the town our digestive systems seemed numb, erasing any occurrences of hunger pains.  This was evident when we could not decide where to stop and eat.  Nothing seemed appetizing.  We drove up and through Main Street where all the stores were lit.  The town seemed modeled after old history books that I used to read while in Grade School.  There were tradesmen shops and little restaurants where mom and pop sold homemade soups and meals.  Delicious as it may have seemed, we did not feel like stopping and opted to do so when we approached the next town.  Passing through Port Jervis was a milestone for us.  We were only a step away from the main route that would bring us straight back into Rochester; it would still be a matter of hours from there, but it was a major highway, and it should be stress-free.  I figured that momentum had us progressing forward, we should continue to do so, and not make any unnecessary stops.
     We passed through Main Street and exited the town.  A few miles later, we came upon a roadblock.  Apparently, they have temporarily closed down the route to clean up fallen trees, and would reopen in a matter of a couple of hours.  We were instructed to head back in the opposite direction and check back then.  I do not know if this was the final straw for me, but I lacked the emotional energy to find an alternative path.  Letting out a sigh, I asked Alex if he would mind just eating now, and checking back later as suggested.  He agreed.  We followed suit with the other cars and turned the car around and started heading back towards town.

      A weird phenomenon.  Everything was still – too still.  Everything just seemed too tranquil.  Suddenly, like the rebound of a fully stretched rubber band, the awaiting storm snapped over us like a dark blanket covering and layering everything.  Alex and I watched as the trees whipped and swayed when the winds picked up.  The snowfall then started.  It grew violent.  A sudden drop in temperature.  The roads seemed to crackle as they froze solid, and rendered black ice conditions.  The town fell victim being engulfed in the elements.
     We crawled slowly back towards town.  I could only see about five feet in front of the car before the distraction of the star field of erratic snowfall became too much to handle.  I heard the winds howl as it gushed against the windows making a deep thumping sound, and rocking the car.  Trying to gauge the road conditions, I applied too much pressure on the accelerator.  I could feel the tires slip and spin effortlessly underneath.  We slowly progressed, sometimes sliding slightly sideways, back into town and to our surprise, we had almost missed it.  We could not recognize it.  We had to really look hard.  Looking out the side windows, focusing pass the raging snowfall, we could barely make out the dark storefronts.  Unlike the last time we passed through town, it was now pitch black.  None of the store lights were lit.  Initially, we thought that the places of business had closed, and all the merchants, moms and dads had went home seeking shelter, but then we also noticed the absence of the traffic lights.  They were no longer illuminated, but swung violently in the wind and seemed like they were going to be ripped apart from the wires where they hung, and flung through the air crashing against the darkened buildings.  The town of Port Jervis had no electric and was now under black out conditions.
     “What the…” Alex said nervously, “There’s no electric -- nothing.  We cannot go forward.  We have to go back?  Back through the park?  I do not want to go back through the park.”  He peered down to the gas gauge and seemed horrified.  I quickly peered down and noted that it now read one quarter.  The thought of traveling back through the state park horrified me.  It was not a possibility anymore -- not on a quarter of a tank.  I did not want to drive anymore.  I could not.  But, I did not want to stay where we were, which was in the middle of no where, in a tremendous winter storm.  I wanted to know which was the lesser of two evils.  The thought occurred to me to stay in a parking lot overnight somewhere on Main Street, letting the snow cover the car, staying awake and starting the car every half hour to provide us with heat.  I was already so fatigued.  I thought to myself – Would a quarter of a tank last us?  I just continued driving the car forward down Main Street.
     We came upon a line of cars where I could make out a sheriff bundled in a thick, bright orange, hooded parka directing traffic.  He hunched over each car and pointed them in the southern direction.  The next car inched up.  He said something to them and pointed south again, and that car inched away.  It was our turn next.  I stepped on the gas.  The wheels spun and slid and we inched up to him.  I cracked the window just slightly enough to hear him.  A loud gush of frigid air filled the interior.  “Over there,” the sheriff yelled in a muffled voice and pointed south, “…is a hotel.  You have to go to the hotel.  We are under a state of emergency.  All roads are closed.  Proceed to the hotel.  Go.  Go now.”
     I rolled up the window and looked over to Alex.  He looked down, back up again, and over the front of the hood.

     Approximately a half hour later and three miles down the road, we followed the line of cars into the overfilled hotel parking lot, and found a spot anywhere we could squeeze the car into.  I cracked opened the car door and a gust of wind ripped it from my grasp.  It swung the door open hard enough to almost break the hinges.  I reached into the back and grabbed my duffel bag.  I stepped out onto what I thought was a sheet of ice, but instead breaking into an ankle-deep mixture of frigid ice, slush, and water.  Immediately, my sneakers were filled and a chilled pain shot up my legs.  I intuitively slammed the door shut, and hopped out of the pothole.  We ran against the wind shaking my feet in hopes of draining my sneakers.  Stomping my feet against the ice covered ground, they felt better, putting some feeling back into them.  I could also feel the coldness biting at my face.  Closing my mouth helped relieve some of the chill.  The steam from my breath protruded rhythmically through my nostrils with every step.  I could not believe how cold it was suddenly.  We finally reached the entrance.  The electric doors did not automatically open as expected.  Manually, we had to pull apart the two glass sections, entered between them, and manually squeezed them back together again.  We felt the last of the wind hiss as the doors closed shut.  I felt parts of me begin to haw almost immediately.  We walked a few paces toward the lobby.  I noticed a huge cable strung along the front carpet with a utility light at the end illuminating the lobby like the front of a funeral parlor.  Lining the furniture and along the back wall were people; some of them slept, others just sat there like zombies.  I looked up and down the hallways extending from the lobby and people with long faces lined the walls.  I felt a sudden chill from behind me.  Turning around, there was an older woman entering through the front doors.  The look on her face was similar to mine.  Seconds later, she too looked to the side where the hallways were, and noticed the same thing that I just had.
     At the front desk, we were informed that there were no vacancies, electric, or heat present in the hotel, and that people were staying over wherever they could find some space.  All the roads were closed and the area was in a state of emergency.  It would take until the middle of the night until the storm passes, and it would be at least until tomorrow morning until things were cleaned up.
     After collecting our thoughts, and walking all around the hotel’s main floor, we wound up at the hotel’s bar.  I guess they did not need electric to serve drinks.  And to no surprise, the supply of ice was plentiful.  Although not being a drinker, this was the only place in the hotel that we were able to find some chairs to sit in.  Alex and I sat at a small table by a window and observed the outside.  Looking over at the bar, we spotted the older woman that had entered the hotel just after us.  She sat alone and seemed shaken up.  We asked her to join us.  We shared with her our story starting from the moment we had dim sum with my parents this late morning.  Apparently, she had started out earlier today also.  Being blinded from the snow, she had driven off the road about three miles away from town.  Without being able to travel on foot, and without any communication devices, she stayed in her car hopelessly waiting.  She did not know what she was waiting for, but she had no choice.  Fortunately, an emergency vehicle stopped and checked on her car.  And, that is how she wound up here.
     During a lull in the conversation, we sat there and looked out the window.  The wind blew the snow up in the air and back down again.  In it’s own mysterious way, it was quite pretty.  I felt my eyelids getting heavy.  I excused myself, and bid Alex and our new friend a good night.

 

| b |