Like many, MANY people in the ATL, I spent a looooooong time--8.5 hours WITHOUT a potty break, which is really like 205 bladder hours--in my car last Tuesday trying to get home in the snow and ice. In that 8.5 hours, which started at 12:45 p.m., I ate a handful of tiny little chocolate candies that I grabbed out of my desk, just in case it took me a couple of hours to get home--because I hadn't had lunch yet. And no water--but that was actually okay, since I had nowhere to pee.
Here's the first indication (besides, you know, the fact that I wasn't moving very fast on the interstate and it was snowing) that I wasn't going to get home for a while:
Yes, that does say it's going to take 89-91 minutes to go 9 miles. But, it lied. It took me more than three hours. I'm not sure how many minutes that is, but I know it's more than 89-91.
After 8.5 hours in the car, I gave up. I crested a hill, about a mile from my house, and watched several cars slide to the bottom of the other side. And I was done. My car spent the night in a restaurant parking lot, and I walked the last mile home.
And I was luckier than the many who didn't get home that night at all. I know people who slept on buses, in Target, in their cars, at a stranger's house. A friend was forced to turn my sister's snow yellow at 4 a.m., because she was still a mile from home and just couldn't wait any more. Even had an acquaintance, who couldn't get home, spend the night at the Beach House.
Granted, there were some nice stories of people delivering food and water to folks stranded in their cars or opening their homes for potty breaks (clearly this became an important issue for me). But, really, it sucked for whole lot of people.