Flood of Patience

I live less than fifteen miles from my current place of employment. On a good day, my commute takes about 25 minutes. On an average day, it can take up to 35. Wednesday was a bad day, a really, really bad day...

I awoke to a torrential downpour, and took my time getting ready. It showed no signs of letting up, but since I haven't figured out a way for my work to do itself, I didn't have much of a choice. Wipers flying furiously, I set out into my aqueous journey.

Winds and water pelted my little car. I couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me, and relied heavily on the lines in the road. Where the road inclined toward the center, I stayed right to avoid puddles. Where it inclined outwards, I shifted to the left. Ten minutes in, the rain let up to a drizzle. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I'd be at work sooner rather than later.

The first obstacle was a van stalled in the left lane. I shifted to the right, and saw men in suits attaching a rope from the front bumper of one vehicle to a nub on the back of another. Traffic accumulated, but still it moved. The next obstacle was a power outage. I flew through an intersection where the lights were dark, cars waiting to cross my path. In my rearview mirror, a police car peeled out behind me.

I stayed calm. I wasn't speeding, and I don't think it's possible to run a light that isn't on to begin with. Indeed, he had other concerns as he passed me. The next four or five lights were out. Finally, he threw on his lights, pulled a u-turn, and soared the other way.

I only encountered one more light outage, just before a major expressway. This time, a cop was directing traffic, and beyond that the road was open and the lights were on. All lights, including brake. I found myself on a stretch of road in bumper to bumper traffic, with no side streets to escape down. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen. I crawled along, but I was calm. I listened to music, and had the window open, the light drizzle on my arm refreshing. Soon I got to a point where I could turn off the road, and cut down to another Southbound route.

The next major road was almost as bad, and the following one turned out to be worse, but it was my final option. Several times I seriously considered parking the car and walking, because I honestly could have closed those last five or six miles faster on foot. People beeped. People cut in front of me. At one point, the radio cautioned crossing train tracks because many of the lights and arms were out of commission. I left space in front of me, so I didn't get caught on the tracks. Suddenly, flashing lights took me by surprise. I sat for ten more minutes waiting for a train which eventually appeared, and slowly rolled past.

Finally, after nearly two hours on the road, I was within a few blocks of my destination. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, but I wasn't going to pull over when I was that close. My parents were no doubt concerned, but I'd call them from my desk. The phone showed the missed call as being from a “restricted #”, so I didn't even bother checking my voicemail. I just ran into the building, wondering why half the parking lot was empty.

Inside, there was a message from my dad. I called home to let him know I was okay and just got to work, and asked if they called my cell phone. He said they had not and then, against my protests, put my mom on the phone. After a few terse affirmations and denials, I quietly explained to her that I didn't want to advertise loudly in my cubicle just how late I was.

An e-mail check explained the partially empty parking lot; one of our buildings had flooded, and the employees sent home. Our building, its lobby on level ground, proved to be more resilient against rain, and so we weren't as fortunate. Still, with half my team missing, it turned out to be a quiet day. I enjoyed it, knowing how frantic it would be catching up in the coming days. By lunch time, the rain had stopped though the clouds had yet to part. As I walked in to town with my friends, I decided to check my cell phone once we were outdoors and I had reception again.

A few months ago, a writer nearing retirement learned that I lived not far from him. On a few occasions when he's had car trouble, I'd given him a ride to and from work. Starter and transmission problems paled in comparison to the situation he found himself in on Wednesday morning. I stopped in my tracks as I heard him frantically telling me he was in trouble and needed help. His car was partially under water and stalled. It was a horrifying moment realizing the desperate call had been ignored, and he quite possibly was dead for hours. It was like a message from beyond.

He went on to ask me to relay a message, or at least he tried. Suddenly, I heard a woman's voice in the distance, muffled through glass. He began yelling at her, “NO! DON'T PUSH ME! I CAN'T!! I CAN'T SHIFT OUT OF NEUTRAL!” I couldn't quite hear her end of the conversation, but what sounded like people yelling at him turned out to be a lady asking if she could push his vehicle with hers. As it turned out, he had already called a tow truck, and as he thanked the good Samaritan, he got back on to finish asking me to tell his supervisor where he was.

When I got to my desk, I e-mailed his boss, then called him. His wife answered, and I heard him in the background asking if he could call back. I just left a message with her explaining that I had contacted his supervisor, but several hours later because my cell phone doesn't work inside our building.

When an e-mail came from our gym about an early closing, I was disappointed. Surely the aftermath of the weather nightmare was resolved. I read on to see that they were inquiring how many people were planning to stay late. On a busy night, there's maybe two or three other people in the gym when I work out, and often I'm the last one to leave. I wasn't going to make the gym stay open for me, so by 6 PM I was heading home, even thinking about going up to a local school to run around the track instead.

I thought about how much difference a few hours makes. The roads were clear, save for a few scattered small branches and bits of bark. Sidewalks were marked with wood chips and other debris, indicating how far the “tide” had come in before receding. When I saw a line of cars at a railroad crossing, I figured things were still slow on that end and turned up the next block. It would prove to be my last mistake of the day.

Once again, I sat in bumper to bumper traffic. Oddly, I felt more of a sense of urgency to get home than I did when I needed to get to work. When I finally got in the left turn lanes, I wondered why people ahead of me were shifting back to the right. That's when I saw the traffic cones and flashing lights, and noticed that my major road home was closed.

A block up, people turned in to a parking lot, to double back to a point where the North bound road was open. I stopped at a crosswalk in front of a toy store to let a mother and her toddler go by. The jackass in the SUV behind me leaned on his horn. I decided to let the next parent with a stroller get safely to the sidewalk as well. When I got to the exit and stopped before making my turn, it was horn time again. On reflex, I continued moving, spurred by the sound even though I saw a tractor trailer barreling down the road toward me. I made my turn safely, the SUV on my heels. He didn't get hit by the truck though, simply cutting to the next lane and zooming past me. His victory lasted to the next light where his lane came to a standstill while mine moved on. The rest of the ride was uneventful.

There was a lot of flooding on Long Island today. I had a few major puddles, but mostly traffic and power outages were my nemeses. Other people were less fortunate, like my writer coworker, and many people were submerged. One of my friends drove in with over an inch of water inside his car, sloshing back and forth as he drove until he created a dam with some old clothes in his trunk. Another friend sat in his car for five hours before he reached the office. I can be very patient sometimes, and it took a while for things to get to me. I kept rationalizing and approximating how late I would be. In my brain I would name a time, and it would be okay, but that time got later and later. I guess for all the benefits of living on an island, every now and then we're tested with stuff like tornados, floods, and inconsiderate drivers.