Most of the snow that has been hitting the northeast this year has bypassed the Washington, DC area, so when the weathermen were forecasting snow for yesterday, I thought, "Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it." I headed off to work yesterday morning with the thought that I'd keep my eye on things and if it looked like this one would really hit us, I'd head home early. I did just that and decided that I would head home between 3 and 3:30 so that I would be home safely before the snow started around 4:00.
Well, it turns out that everyone who works in Tysons Corner had the same exact idea. I pulled onto the street at exactly 3:30 only to find bumper to bumper traffic already clogging the roads. Ever the optimist, I thought that traffic would ease up once people got onto 495, like it normally does. What I didn't realize is that it would take me an hour to get to get to that point - a portion of the trip that normally takes about 10 minutes. During the hour that I sat in Tysons Corner traffic, the sleet that was hitting the windshield like little pellets when I first got into the car turned into big fluffy puffs of snow. Because I was stuck in traffic and not moving, the snow began to accumulate on my car. I really couldn't believe how fast the snow was falling.
Traffic did clear up a bit after the 495 ramps and I found myself exiting for 66E as the lead car. It was snowy and slick and I was a bit nervous, but glad to have the mess of Tysons behind me. Little did I know I would have 3 more hours to go. 66E was a parking lot for miles, as everyone inched forward little by little. It seemed to me that people were much more generous about letting cars in front of them than normal. Even I had decided early on that my mentality would be that we are all in this together, so I would let people in front of me or whatever was needed. (Normally, I get a little competitive about these things.) I saw a few accidents along 66E - some that had already happened and one that happened a few cars in front of me. In that case, one of the cars slid on the ice and hit the other car. Even though we were slugging along at 10 MPH, the roads were slick and dangerous. Also, in addition to pouring snow, it was thundering and lightening. It was pretty incredible to see all of 66 light up like it did when the thunder and light came. I don't think I have ever seen anything like that before.
At one point along the way, I was stopped in traffic under an overpass. I took this opportunity to open my windows (driver and passenger sides) and scrape off the snow accumulating on them as well as the windshields. I was incredibly thankful to be able to do this, because I had started to feel a little claustrophobic with my windows covered in snow. Plus, you know, I kind of needed to be able to see where I was going. I briefly considered getting out of the car to wipe down my back windshield and take care of the mountain of snow on the hood of my car, but wisely decided that getting out of the car would be too dangerous, even if traffic was at a standstill.
After the Arlington exits, traffic cleared up and I found myself one of a very few drivers on the highway. I discovered for the first time in my life that this was actually not good, but scary. The snow was mounting up so quickly on the roads, and with no one in front of me making tracks to follow, I had visions of me slipping and sliding right off the highway. I had to fight the urge to panic and was able to stay calm long enough to reach some other cars to follow.
I exited from 66E onto 110 and that is when the real panic started. The road was an incredible mess - snowy, icy, and wet. The snow was pouring so hard I could barely see. I felt the panic rising up in me again, tears welling in my eyes. I wanted to stop the car and just wait it out. At that moment, I flashed back to our ski trip last year when I went from skiing down a trail to being on the open mountain. I freaked out so badly then, panicked at the vastness of the mountain and the thought of falling off of it, that when I fell, I could not make myself get back up. I was frozen with fear. Realizing that I was driving a car in the worst conditions I had ever been in, I knew that I could not let the fear take over me like it did on that mountain. I flipped the radio to a relaxing classical CD, took many deep breaths and forced myself to calm down, all while driving through piles of snow. Just as I had regained my composure, I hit more traffic. I have never been so happy to see tail lights in my life! There was just enough traffic to give me comfort, but not so much that we were standing still. Although, when I exited onto 395 heading into DC, I was once again on my own, heading up a curved ramp. Dear Lord, I thought, please get me up this ramp in one piece. I held on to the steering wheel with a stressed out death grip and slowly but surely made my was up that curved ramp.
The rest of the ride home was long but relatively uneventful. I had had to go to the bathroom since about hour 1.5, so the final 45 minutes of my trip are a bit cloudy. I was just focusing on 1) not crashing and 2) not wetting my pants in the car. Thankfully, neither happened!
As I made my journey home, I had many thoughts. First and foremost was how very, very glad I was that Cesar and I made it mandatory that the car we purchased had all wheel drive. I fell in love with my car a little bit more each time I watched another car slip and slide its way through the snowy mess or saw cars abandoned along the highways. My other recurring thoughts were: 1) I have to pee, 2) why didn't I leave earlier, 3) I hope people at work aren't missing me, and 4) if I win a big lotto jackpot, how would I spend/invest/donate the money (that thought isn't special to this trip though - it's a regular in-the-car thought!).
When I got home at 7:15 last night - 3 hours and 45 minutes after my journey began - Cesar's first comment to me was that I seemed very calm for the trip I had just made. I consider that to be such a victory! I don't ever want to have to drive through conditions like that again, but at least now I know I can do it.