Earlier this week I made a post on Facebook that deserves some further detail. I went on a road trip, some 820 or so miles, to San Antonio, TX with a teen-aged robotics team and their adult coaches, mentors, parents, grandparents, siblings, etc. There were 16 of us in all divided between three vehicles. We were all going to the same destination but with no plans to stick together closely for all the stops along the way. We were using cellphones and text messages to keep in touch from time to time.
It was a cold, dreary, drizzly day from the start. Our van was packed to the gills with suitcases and robotics equipment. We made a quick stop in our state capital to give an impromptu lunch presentation to a state finance committee of some sort or another. Talk about nervous! The team was saying, "You want us to do WHAT? NOW?" They were dressed for a comfy road trip, not an official presentation. "Oh well, take a deep breath and just go for it," we told them. They did fine.
On south we drove and the weather deteriorated as we traveled. By the time we were in Louisiana, the weather was becoming stormy. We caught up to a squall line as we approached Lake Pontchartrain. Now, I make no bones about telling folks I'm a storm spotter, not a storm chaser. My point is to spot them and go the other way. Why is it that storms seem to find me anyway? The rain was coming down like Niagara Falls. I was playing navigator, trying to watch the radar, the map and the road. I was admiring the lovely white line along the edge of the roadway because that was about all I could see.
We got out to of the rain on the south side of the lake. That should have been our first heads up. We should not have been on the south side of the lake. Worse, after several minutes, I realized we were headed east. I was quite sure San Antonio is not east of New Orleans. We'd missed a turn that would have kept us on the north side of the lake and headed west. Thirty minutes later, we were turned around and back on our route.
As we traveled on into Baton Rouge, we were hearing from our lead car that traffic was at a standstill past one of two available Mississippi River crossing bridges. Decisions, decisions. Should we stay on the interstate or detour off to the second bridge to the north? There was about 100 miles of gas left in the gas tank and oil refineries were in abundance. Finding a gas station shouldn't be a problem before we got out of town. We made a last minute decision at a split in the road and headed for the north bridge. We passed into the industrial parts of town and crossed on what was surely the 'old' bridge. We turned south again, paralleling the river. There wasn't much on that side of the river. We finally saw a couple of gas stations but since it was getting dark and we were in an area with more tattoo parlors and liquor stores than houses, we decided to find an exit off the interstate.
Well, there's not much west of Baton Rouge on Interstate Highway 10 for a long way. We were hearing that something still had traffic stopped. With our gas tank running lower and needing a pit stop ourselves, we took the first exit we saw that offered gas, food and lodging. It didn't say exactly where that gas, food and lodging was. We traveled down a seemingly never-ending, winding, two lane road. We kept thinking about turning around but there was that pesky gas gage and we could see a water tower across the fields. There must be a town over there somewhere. Did you know that a town can be found in the middle of nowhere? It's called Maringouin, Lousiana. It's one of those towns that are so small that folks notice when a strange car comes through. There's no quick way to get to this town and no quick way to leave. We entered town from the west side and decided to follow the glow of the lights to work our way out of the residential outskirts to the town center and the promised gas, food and lodging establishments.
It worked. Marginouin has at least one gas station and a Dollar Store. I don't remember seeing any hotels or motels. Our driver of the last several stressful hours got out with the teens to walk inside the store while I pumped gas. She handed me the van keys. Now, in retrospect, I was tired as well and I was breaking my normal gas pump routine. My keys usually go in my pocket or on the seat. I do not close my van door as I pump gas and I stay close to the open door. I have payment in hand before I leave the vehicle. This time I'd gotten out from the passenger side. That was the first change in routine. I reached back into the van to get my wallet so I could pay for the gas. I tapped the lock button since I was in an unfamiliar area. I closed the van door. Only after I heard the door close did I realize I'd dropped something inside my purse inside the van. I quickly reached for the door handle hoping I'd beat the lock mechanism. Nope, that van was fastened up tight. There I was in a strange town with my phone and purse locked safely away. I just leaned my forehead against the window and listened as the gas was swooshed into the gas tank. At least that was paid for.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as my companions walked out of the gas station. I asked my fellow driver if by chance she had not actually handed me the keys before she went inside. She, rightly, looked at me like I'd lost my mind. I had to confess what I'd done, feeling a fool the whole time. She calmly turned around and went back into the store. I just kept listening to the gas filling the tank. Our incredibly good fortune was that a town police officer was there. He'd seen us drive up. It seems I had managed to lock my keys into one of the only towns around that would actually help you break back into your car. My driving companion asked for the policeman for help. The young officer called a sheriff's deputy who arrived after about 15 minutes. The deputy spent about 5 minutes on paperwork and maybe 10 minutes getting my van open. I'm so thankful for small town country folks.
Now, with our detour and misadventures, we were about 2 hours behind the rest of our travel group. We rolled into Winnie, TX only to learn that those reserved rooms supposed to sleep six only slept 4. We got an extra room and collapsed into bed.
The next day's drive wasn't so bad. Only 4 or 5 hours. The interstate system through Houston, TX is amazing. There are layers and layers of roadways. They are very clearly marked. It's looks like a confusing mass but is actually well organized. I was feeling good about the rest of the trip. And then....we arrived in San Antonio. Let me just say that San Antonio could learn a lot from Houston.
We were in San Antonio for three days. Each morning we drove downtown to the convention center area. I'm not sure we went on the same route twice. I was never quite sure if I was on I-10 upper level or lower level. I-35 north or south. Did I want the turnaround or the exit that was right beside it? We never arrived at the convention center late even with my detours. I'm not sure we went back to our hotel exactly the same way twice. I don't like driving San Antonio's freeway system at all. I find the one way access roads inconvenient and confusing. Once I got off those roads, the city streets were fine. San Antonio, I like your city. I'd like to go back and spend some time when I have time to explore and enjoy the opportunities you have to offer.
There was much less adventure on our trip home. I still managed to miss an exit coming out of Houston. That was quickly fixed. We saw a huge bronze sculpture of Helios and his Chariot of the Sun with all 7 horses in Sealy, TX. It's there at a scrap metal yard off the side of the road. It looks like something from a museum or a grand European city gate. It was all I could do to keep myself from taking the next exit and going back for a closer look. It was magnificent.
Next time I go on a road trip, I'm not going let myself get stressed out over the driving. It's not worth it. Next time, I want to take time to stop and visit places along the way, places that aren't necessarily in some tourist's guide book. I want take time to enjoy the trip without being rushed to get from point A to point B. Isn't that half the purpose of traveling? Isn't it about meeting the nice folks in Maringouin or seeing an amazing work of art sitting carelessly by the side of the road?
