We're sitting in our hotel in Orlando Friday night at around 6:00 PM, awaiting Hurricane Frances, drinking our complimentary Shirley Temples and gnawing on slightly stale pretzels. Glancing around, we see a very crowded lobby. We see through the windows a town that is shut down completely. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. AND, we see a report that Frances is taking her time, and really taking it slowly.
Suddenly, Collin says it. "We should just drive home now." It was one of those moments where a possibility begins to grow in potential. Yeah, I think, why not? The hurricane is continuing to delay itself, therefore probably delaying the reopening of the airport, stranding us longer. Away from wives and children who we want to see very badly. And the prospect of a number of days, without electricity, cramped together with the people crowding the lobby. . .
We have to check our options. How much more will it cost to drop our car off in Philly instead of Orlando? How long will it take us to get north of the hurricane? Oh man. .. and the gas situation. We only have a quarter tank.
Due to the hurricane, the car rental agency is waiving the additional fee. Check! Jacksonville is 2 hours away, and the hurricane won't be hitting that area hard. And Frances is moving only 4 MPH. Check! I think we could outcrawl this storm if we had to.
But the gas? Well. .. no answer there. Definitely not a "check." But Collin and I are optimistic to a fault sometimes. . . Optimistic as in, "Oh yeah the news says that there isn't any gas anywhere? Well, we'll find some somewhere." We have our friend Joe with us too. .. and he's not so confident. But while we're kind of lying around still mulling the decision, I jump up, clap and say, "LET'S Go!" It's 7:15.
10 minutes later we're all packed up and out the door.
The hotel staff can't believe it when we check out. "You're sure? You do know there's a hurricane coming? You realize there is a curfew on the streets?" Yes, yes, yes. .. we just want to go home, we tell them. We have people waiting for us. We're driving away from the hurricane, and away from the curfew.
Are we crazy? The looks on their faces tell us we are. We ignore them . ..
In the car and we're on the highway and on our way home.
Weather isn't yet bad, we're doing fine. Oh yeah, let's make sure to get gas, right? Hmmm. .. first exit. .. all 4 gas stations are EMPTY.
Not to worry, the next exit will have gas. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY.
Down to a quarter tank. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY.
Getting nearer to that terrible red zone that tells you you'd better pull over and find a gas station. Of course, it's assuming that these gas stations would actually have gas.
It's quiet. None of us are talking. None of us are saying the things that all of us are thinking. Not enough gas to get back to our Orlando hotel. We're now in Daytona Beach -- just miles from the coast, and a completely evacuated area for safety reasons. If we run out of gas, we're sharing a small white Oldsmobile for . .. how long? 12 hours? 24? 36?
EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY.
Joe asks, "Anybody have any plans?" I suggest finding a gas station that has gas. I'm the only one who laughs. (Someday they will realize how clever this was.) Collin suggest that should things get very desperate, we could siphon gas from a parked car and leave a twenty under the wipers. . . Yes, we are getting desperate.
There are no hotels in this area. You're not allowed in this area. There are no people in this area. This area is a ghost town waiting for disaster. And we're going to get stuck here.
EMPTY. EMPTY. EMPTY.
Oh, but wait, Collin looks out at one of the completely dark gas stations that we drove past because it looked abandoned. But he wants to check it out a little closer. He runs over to it. . . Comes running back with cautious optimism. Not all of the nozzles are covered and closed. One says it will still take cards.
We drive there, none of us really believing that this would be the one that worked. I slide the card in. . so far, good. It takes. And the nozzle into the car. . . pull the trigger. . . glorious gas! We are transformed into three fools, hooting and hollaring and slapping high fives in an empty, abandoned gas station. Thank you Lord. It's a gaseous miracle.
After this. .. no more hiccups. Wow, we were really rescued from a very bad situation. The roads were abandoned all the way until South Carolina. Fast driving and good times. . .I think we set a record, we were home and surprising our wives and children after just 12 hours of driving.
So there we are, no longer stranded in Florida, and with a pretty miraculous story too!