I-95: A Family Holiday Travel Cautionary Tale

There was no way around it.

We saw the forecast. We knew we were driving into a monsoon. But there’s certain times of the year when you can’t punt on a trip because of Mother Nature.

Visiting the in-laws for Thanksgiving is one of those for me. As we planted roots near Hilton Head, my wife’s sister has planted roots just outside of Washington, D.C. Long ago, Deb and I pledged that we’d Turkey Day with her family and Christmas with my side in New England.

So we packed up my Ram 1500, fitted the crew cab with the car seat and loaded up the dog hair-resistant bench seat cover for our pug Sophie’s maiden voyage out of a prison-cell carrier.

TripAdvisor released a report today saying that the winter holidays are the most stressful time for U.S. travellers.

In honor of that Captain Obvious research, I bring you this report from the front lines, as we went from Bluffton, S.C. to Potomac, Md. on I-95.

1:45 p.m. Tuesday, Nov. 26, mile marker 20: We pass the RV dealership off exit 21. I once again raise the fact with my wife that these kind of trips would be so much easier in an RV. It’s about the 287th I’ve said this since our first son was born 10 years ago.

The rain goes from steady to epic in seconds, as if the travel gods were saying, “Enough already with the RV.”

2:05 p.m., S.C. mile marker 24: We are now moving at a snail’s pace. Rain is the southern equivalent of snow in general, where drivers freak out and hit the brakes. But even I will admit this rain is insane.

2:45 p.m., S.C. mile marker 45: It’s already apparent that what should be a five-hour ride tops to our travel stop in Rocky Mount, N.C. is going to take a lot longer. Especially if I’m surrounded by Florida drivers.

Listen, I’m far from perfect. But I know that right lane is for slow and left lane is for faster drivers. I’ve compiled a sizable list of stereotypes by state for the menaces on the road. But Florida, you own it.

Every Sunshine State plate going 12 mph in the fast lane through the monsoon. Every roadblock in our journey thanks to a Florida driver for 48 minutes. That’s fact.

Normally, I’m a strict bathroom break regulator. But combine the 50 ounces of water I drank before I left with the constant sound of rain against the windshield and it’s time to stop.

4:48 p.m., S.C. mile marker 100: The depth of the delay is starting to sink in, as we hit a spot in three hours that it normally takes me 90 minutes to get to.

Sophie has been an angel in her first trip out of a carrier. But she’s in the middle of a sneezing fit.

“Mom, Sophie won’t stop gooping up my iPad screen,” my 10-year-old son T.J. says. I’ll get right on that, once I finish my Florida driver road rage.

PHOTO: My son T.J., pug Sophie and blanketed son Jake in their backseat glory. (photo by Tim Wood)

6:50 p.m., North Carolina mile marker 1: We’ve finally made it out of the first state.

Sirius has decided to play One Direction’s entire album on a loop on the main station we usually listen to. Shockingly, I don’t mind. Every song is catchy, no lie.

After 922 billboards, we’ve finally reached the infamous South of the Border extravaganza. Once again, it’s the most underwhelming thing I’ve ever seen. I’m suddenly angry at the amount of money I don’t have to waste on 922 billboards.

7:01 p.m., NC mile marker 8: Weather breaks, the only minutes of this journey without rain.

“Did we close the garage door?” Deb asks. Normally, T.J. or I can quickly quell my wife’s concerns. In the hurry to load up in the rain, neither of us can remember.

I pull over to text our neighbors. If we have to head home, there will be no Thanksgiving in D.C. It’s Waffle House in Hardeeville.

7:22 p.m., N.C. mile marker 20: Progress is no faster in this state. In need of fourth bathroom break. I want to lose weight, but this is ridiculous.

Neighbors respond to text. They drove by the house and the door is shut.

7:45 p.m., N.C. mile marker 33: I have encountered the greatest rest stop in my 25 years of driving. The Davis Travel Center. Mark it down, you’re welcome in advance. Clean everything, a shopper’s paradise. I could probably do a lot of Christmas shopping here if we weren’t on a 10-hour pace.

I text my sister Dede about One Direction’s song “Diana.” That’s her real name and I know she’ll flip. And I need to spread good news at this point.

9:58 p.m., mile marker 145: Finally in Rocky Mount. Thankfully, the front desk supervisor is about the nicest we’ve ever encountered. First room they put is in is smoky, like someone burned something on the stovetop. He moves us quickly.

Just as quick, I’m out. I remember my four-year-old boy Jake jumping on me and knocking the wind out of me. Passed out, asleep, I don’t care.

DAY TWO

10:20 a.m., Rocky Mount, N.C.: It’s still pouring. I have no interest in starting up this journey again.

Jake has built a fort with the bed pillows. I try to hide in it, but Deb finds me. We’re on the road.

12:20 p.m., Virginia mile marker 4: My spirit is officially broken.

Normally, it takes until Alexandria for the enormity of Virginia’s horrendous road infrastructure to rear its ugly head.

Not today. I literally put the truck in park for 23 minutes. Virginia is not for lovers today. I’m a hater.

2:30 p.m., Virginia mile marker 34: I’m delirious. The navigation voice has given us so many unnecessary directions and updates that we’re still on I-95, I name her “Navi” and begin a dialogue with her.

4:50 p.m., Va. Mile marker: 110: We’re parked again. No sight of the holdup.

We’ve now heard AJR’s “I’m Ready” 21 times over the last 27 hours.

The song struck a chord with the kids because SpongeBob is in the chorus. Never has a song gone from my favorite to losing its home in my iPod so quickly.

6:15 p.m., Va. mile marker 156: We pass an outlet mall named Potomac Mills.

Potomac? That’s where we’re headed. Could this really be Maryland.

Nope. Not even close.

8:20 p.m., Maryland mile marker... I don't even know at this point: Navi took us on a roundabout route around Washington, D.C. Good part: we drove right past the Pentagon and had a spot on view of the Washington Monument.

Bad part: we had to traverse a windy, hilly narrow highway on icy roads.

We’re at the hotel. I share my thoughts on the trip on Twitter.

A crazy 2 days of driving right into the heart of the storm. Rained from SC to DC. I love my in-laws, but the turkey better be dang good. :)

— Tim Wood (@TimWoodPulse) November 28, 2013

 

I forgot my Twitter is connected with my Facebook and my father-in-law reads Facebook. Whoops.

But the meal was incredible. Our two boys played with my sister-in-law’s same aged boys like they were long-lost brothers. 

The boys experienced their first hibachi cook show at a Japanese steakhouse on Black Friday. And they got to see the cook squirt a seemingly endless stream of sake into their dad’s mouth.

The two days went by too fast. We don’t see Grandma and Grandpa from Long Island enough. It was a wonderful time.

Honestly, I’ve blurred out most of the drive home.

Jake puked for no reason 15 minutes into the drive.

Virginia was once again a parking lot.

We ended up in two double beds – one parent, one incredibly restless sleeper kid apiece -- in a Fayetteville, N.C. Holiday Inn when we learned the king suite with a sleeper sofa didn’t have a sleeper sofa.

There were too many rubber-necking delays. I got flipped the bird for no apparent reason by a Georgia driver five miles in on day two of the drive home.

All in all, 1326 miles logged in 24 hours worth of driving.

And we’re doing it again in two weeks, going four hours farther north to Massachusetts.

I love my family. I love my family. I love my family.

T.J. says if I say that enough, we’ll just teleport to New England this time around.  Here’s hoping.