Tonight though, I just have this feeling that I’ll never meet my George Bailey — pillar of the community, hard worker, believer in the little guy, passionate husband and sweet father — if I stay home with my Chinese takeout.
The rest of the crew take off in their SUVs and pickups outfitted with snow tires. I start up my Toyota. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s never broken down on me yet. I should have invested in snow tires. I usually wait until January to put on those things. We don’t have a ton of snow at Christmas. The worst of the storms come after December.
But nature did not wait for my plans this year.
The storm is starting to freak me out a bit and crave some company. And if I’m snowed in, I’d much rather not be alone. There’s another very good reason to go to Jenna’s.
That’s enough of a sign for me.
Well, there’s only one thing to do. I phone Jenna as I point my car in the direction of her house.
“Babe!” she cries. “Are you coming? Oh gosh, I'm so glad you’re not going to be stuck in your house alone with General Tso and suicidal George Bailey tonight. We need you here! We’ve got a seat by the fire waiting just for you.”
I laugh. “We’ve been over this and we have very different takes on my favorite movie. But I forgive you.”
Jenna lives in a big house in the country. It’s a calculated risk driving that way. Still, the party noises on the other end of the phone line sure sounded inviting.
No sooner am I on the dark highway toward Jenna’s than I know this was a bad idea. My car is fishtailing on the snow and ice. Damn these old tires. I recover from the skid and go slower.
But the wind is picking up even more. The snow is peppering the windshield so fast, all I can see is white.
My eyes are barely able to identify black patches of pavement to guide me; it’s going to be five miles per hour from here until safety. I turn on my hazards and white knuckle the steering wheel.
Out of nowhere, my car comes to a complete stop. My foot is still on the gas, but the wheels are not moving. That’s when I notice my front end is completely covered in a snow drift.
I hadn’t even realized I’d left the road and gone into the ditch. That’s how disorienting the white-out driving can be. I should know better; I just warned my viewers at home about this exact scenario.
Well, isn’t this a nice bit of luck.
I try to think what to do next. I can’t call for help. The police and deputies likely are all over the county helping people in true danger.
I’m not worried, though. I can survive for days in my car with my survival kit: blanket, pillow, a box of Snickers bars, a box of Cheez-its, water, a flashlight, batteries, a flare and most importantly, various other necessities, and a bottle of vodka.
If my weather predictions are correct today, the blizzard should be past us by morning. As long as no other motorist hits me with their vehicle, I should be fine to camp out here in my car for the night.
I entertain myself by reading a book on my e-reader for about an hour. I begin to shiver and I turn on the engine to warm up a bit, but only for a few minutes. I need to save fuel and save the car battery.
I decide to do a live social media video to pass the time. It’s not the best idea to suck up my phone battery, but I do have a juiced up phone charger that doesn’t need to be plugged in. I do a quick, one-minute video, explaining to all the people on my page that I am stuck in a snow drift, but not to worry because I’m perfectly prepared. The likes, hearts, sad and shocked faces are exploding all over my phone screen. It’s very sweet and I’d love nothing more to interact with my people, but ultimately it’s best if I turn off data for now. I never know what might happen, so I need every second of battery life in case of emergency.
One thing I have not prepared for was having to go to the bathroom. I mean, I have toilet paper, and I have means to sanitize my hands. But I guess I never thought about how exactly a girl goes to the bathroom in a severe snowstorm.
Maybe I can hold it until morning.
Nope. Definitely cannot do that.
I bite my lip and look around at the direction the wind is coming from. I cannot even see the road now. By the way the car is angled, I’m guessing that the passenger side is more or less facing the ditch, which is, of course, filled with several feet of snow and probably the reason my car did not get banged up in the process of getting stuck. That side of the car appears to be the least exposed to the wind, so I act. I grab my supplies and scoot over to the passen
ger side and open the door.
While I’m outside the car, getting battered by the wind and flying snow, I am at least thankful that Jenna let everyone dress casual today and I don’t have to navigate this horrible night in a skirt suit. Second, I’m grateful that Jenna is my size and will likely have clothes I can borrow as soon as I arrive.
I finish up what I’m doing as quickly as I can.
Just as abruptly as my car hitting the snow bank in the ditch, a pair of headlights blind me.
One second I’m completely lost in a winter wilderness in the blackest night, and the next second, some big-ass truck is bearing down on me.
Not a semi truck. Not a city snow plow, either.